Of heirs and legacies
by ZanderXX
Summary: Harry finds out that Sirius' testament is divided in two, and there's another member of the Black family alive. But what does this young man hide beneath his disheveled brown hair and deep blue gaze? Set in sixth year. R&R!
1. Prologue

_**An idea that just... you know appeared to me at night while I couldn't sleep. Please, if you liked it R&R**_

_****__**I do not own Harry Potter or any of its character. They belong to the wonderful J.K Rowling!**_

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_Prologue._

Harry Potter was more than pleased to be back in Hogwarts (even though it was just for a fast meeting with professor Dumbledore) walking through the dark hallways, just a month after what had taken place in the Ministry of Magic during the end of the school year, as he tried to stop the memories of that particular day from flowing freely through his mind.

Remembering the fight led him to remember Sirius' death. It was aching and something he tried to forget with all his might, repressing the images of his Godfather falling through the veil after being struck by Bellatrix's curse. He hated that day, as another loved one had been taken away from him; the man who had been the closest thing to a father to him was now gone.

It killed Harry to know, despite whatever Hermione had to say, that it was his own fault. He was the one who had led his friends to the Ministry of Magic in the first place, thinking naively that what he had witnessed inside his head was absolutely real, and Sirius was being tortured by Voldemort himself. He had been so innocent believing his stupid judgment, and so foolish and stubborn by not listening to Hermione and her less mistaken suggestion about the situation.

He had not just led his Godfather to his sudden death, but he could have been mourning over his friends' demise too. He could have gotten himself killed, but unfortunately it had been Sirius the one to leave and not him.

"Shall we, Harry?" said Mr. Weasley, sided by Tonks, taking the silver knob and pushing the door open.

The situation reminded Harry about the last time he had been in the headmaster's office, when he was told about the Prophecy and his future as _'the chosen one'_. However, this time Dumbledore had asked him to come for unknown reasons, as he hadn't explained much in his latter:

_Dear Harry, _

_If it is convenient to you, Mr. Weasley and Miss Tonks shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Saturday at eleven p.m. to escort you to the castle, where I intend we two discuss urgent and important things. I shall explain this more fully when I see you. _

_Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Saturday, _

_I am yours most sincerely, _

_Albus Dumbledore_

"Harry," gritted the old man, smiling and watching him from behind his half moon glasses. "I guessed you would be arriving soon. How are you? Has your scar been hurting at all?"

Harry raised a hand unconsciously to his forehead and rubbed the lightning-shaped mark.

"No," answered Harry truthfully while he made his way towards the empty spot before the headmaster, Tonks and Mr. Weasley fallowing close behind, "and I've been wondering about that. I thought it would be burning all the time now Voldemort's getting so powerful again."

"I, on the other hand, thought otherwise," said Dumbledore wearing a satisfied expression. "Lord Voldemort has finally realized the dangerous access to his thoughts and feelings you have been enjoying. It appears that he is now employing Occlumency against you."

"Well, I'm not complaining," said Harry, who missed neither the disturbing dreams nor the startling flashes of insight into Voldemort's mind.

"So Harry, I can guess you were surprised when you received my sudden latter," said professor Dumbledore. "But this meeting could not be postponed to the beginning of your school year, as we must discuss a few things that can no longer wait. First thing, I will ask you, Arthur and Nymphadora, to wait for Harry outside, please."

Tonks looked at the old man, confused.

"Professor Dumbledore…?"

"Please Dora," repeated the headmaster, calmed as always. "I absolutely appreciate that you two safely escorted Harry here all the way from Private Drive, but the things said tonight inside this office are meant for Harry, and Harry only, though he can later choose who to tell and who not." At this, Tonks and Mr. Weasley left the room without a word, as Albus turned to Harry. "You must be wondering, Harry, why didn't I just appeared at Privet Drive instead of making you travel to Andromeda's to take that portkey –well, you must forgive me, but I have to attend an imperative task here in the school, which requires my full attention. You shall understand more about that at the beginning of the course."

Harry just nodded, not really mad to leave Privet Drive even if it was for a few hours.

"Well, Harry," said Dumbledore, turning toward him, "a difficulty has arisen which I hope you will be able to solve for us. By us, I mean the Order of the Phoenix. If you are agreeable, I would be glad of your assistance in this matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow in a few weeks, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays."

Harry could just nod once again.

"I'd like you to accompany me to the charming village of Budleigh Babberton. We must persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts."

"How can I help with that, sir?"

"Oh, I think we'll find a use for you," said Dumbledore vaguely. "But you will know more about that later. Now I must tell you that Sirius's will was discovered a week ago."

Dumbledore made a pause.

"You add a reasonable amount of gold to your account at Giringotts," Dumbledore went on, "and Sirius also left you number twelve, Grimmauld Place, which meant a slightly problematic part of the legacy, as the Black family tradition decreed that the house was handed down the direct line, to the next male with the name of 'Black.'"

"_Meant_, sir?" Harry asked, confused. "Isn't that a problem anymore?"

There was a long silence, in which Harry watched as the old professor tried to find the right words.

"You see, Harry," he finally said. "While his will makes it perfectly plain that he wants you to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than a pureblood. If such an enchantment exists, then, as the Black family tradition decrees, the house is handed down to the next male with the name of 'Black', and if there is none, finally the ownership of the house is most likely to pass to the eldest of Sirius's living relatives, which would mean his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange."

Without realizing what he was doing, Harry sprang to his feet. Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius's _killer_, inherit his house? "No," he said firmly.

"Don't worry, Harry," reassured Dumbledore with a smile. "As I said, it is no longer a problem."

Harry sat back down, confused at the situation in hand.

"I don't quiet understand, sir."

"Let me read you the testament, I believe it will make things easier for you to comprehend," said Dumbledore, taking a large paper in his hand and then saying aloud:

_The will and testament of Sirius Black_

_"To Harry James Potter, I leave the former house of the Black family and so Kreacher the house-elf, in the hope he may one day call it his home (…)"_

Dumbledore made a puase and looked at Harry over his half moon glasses before continuing.

_"To Rabazthian Magnus Black, I leave all the Black Family's possessions at his hand, in the hope he will find a deeper value in them than I ever did (...)"_

"Rabazthian Magnus… _Black_?" Harry mumbled to himself, as he looked at Dumbledore in astonishment._ Black?_ Harry thought. _As in Black, like Sirius?_ It had to be a joke, a really bad joke; but Dumbledore did not seem to be jesting.

"Yes, Harry, there is another member of the Black family alive," Dumbledore said calmly. "And as the next male with the name of 'Black' he made sure that you were given the house as Sirius' will dictates."

Harry was indeed very surprised at this revelation, but still didn't quiet understand a few things, like why hadn't Sirius told him about this other Black male? Or why hadn't he showed up, why hadn't Harry met him before?

"What-? But who's- who's Rabazthian Black?"

"That would be me," said a male voice behind him, and when Harry turned he was greeted by a tall young man around his age standing by the door, short brown hair, icy-blue eyes, and wearing muggle clothes, a small smile and a bandage covering his left wrist held against his chest. "I'm Rabazthian Black, is nice to finally meet you Harry."

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_**Please, tell me what you think about this :D**_


	2. Rabazthian Black

**_I have many ideas for this fic, and I think I really want to write it, but I don't know if you guys want to read this, so please leave a review! It would really make my day!_**

**___I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. They belong to the wonderful J.K Rowling!_**

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_Chapter 1. Rabazthian Black_

Harry and Dumbledore approached the back door of the Burrow, which was surrounded by the familiar litter of old Wellington boots and rusty cauldrons; Harry could hear the soft clucking of sleepy chickens coming from a distant shed. He had wished all summer to be back in the borrow, and now thanks to Dumbledore he was there. It had been quiet sudden, as the headmaster had appeared in Privet Drive to take Harry to Budleigh Babberton, where he met Horace Slughorn, an old Hogwarts professor, who Dumbledore wanted back in the castle for some unknown reason. He hadn't told Harry why exactly, but he was sure he would know soon.

Dumbledore knocked three times and Harry saw sudden movement behind the kitchen window.

"Who's there?" said a nervous voice he recognized as Mrs. Weasley's. "Declare yourself!"

"It is I, Dumbledore, bringing Harry." The door opened at once. There stood Mrs. Weasley, short, plump, and wearing an old red dressing gown.

"Harry, dear! Gracious, Albus, you gave me a fright, you said not to expect you before morning!"

"We were lucky," said Dumbledore, ushering Harry over the threshold. "Slughorn proved much more persuadable than I had expected. Harry's doing, of course. Ah, hello, Nymphadora!"

Harry looked around and saw that Mrs. Weasley was not alone, despite the lateness of the hour. A young witch with a pale, heart-shaped face and mousy brown hair was sitting at the table clutching a large mug between her hands.

"Hello, Professor," she said. " Wotcher, Harry."

"Hi, Tonks." Harry thought she looked drawn, even ill, and there was something forced in her smile. Certainly her appearance was less colorful than usual without her customary shade of bubble-gum-pink hair.

"I'd better be off," she said quickly, standing up and pulling her cloak around her shoulders. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly."

"Please don't leave on my account," said Dumbledore courteously, "I cannot stay, I have urgent matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour."

"No, no, I need to get going," said Tonks, not meeting Dumbledore's eyes. "'Night, every-one..."

Tonks hurried past Dumbledore and Harry into the yard; a few paces beyond the doorstep, she turned on the spot and vanished into thin air. Harry noticed that Mrs. Weasley looked troubled.

"Well, I shall see you at Hogwarts, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Take care of yourself. Molly, your servant."

He made Mrs. Weasley a bow and followed Tonks, vanishing at precisely the same spot. Mrs. Weasley closed the door on the empty yard and then steered Harry by the shoulders into the full glow of the lantern on the table to examine his appearance. "You're like Ron," she sighed, looking him up and down. "Both of you look as though you've had Stretching jinxes put on you. I swear Ron's grown four inches since I last bought him school robes. Are you hungry, Harry?"

"Yeah, I am," said Harry, suddenly realizing just how hungry he was.

"Sit down, dear, I'll knock something up." As Harry sat down, he heard someone coming down from the stairs hurriedly, and then Ron appeared at the bottom of the staircase, fallowed close behind by Hermione, the two of them wearing their night clothes. "I believe I said up to bed," Mrs. Weasley said narrowing her eyes at the two newcomers.

"We heard voices, mum, and I thought I recognized Harry's," Ron explained approaching his best mate, who was now standing before them, smiling brightly. "It's good to have you back, mate," he said to Harry after they shared a hug.

"Good to see you too, Ron," Harry said and then turn to Hermione. "Hermione! I thought you were coming in a few days!" Harry exclaimed happily surprised and embracing his best friend tightly.

Hermione smiled.

"I know, but I eventually convinced my parents to come earlier," she explained, smiling back. "I arrived yesterday." A furry ginger cat with a squashed face paced around her feet, purring, until Hermione took it into her arms.

"Hello there, Crookshanks," said Harry, tickling Crookshanks behind the ears.

Even though his stomach was still rumbling with hunger, Harry knew he needed to speak to his two best friends about the events that had taken place during the last week, so he turned to Mrs. Weasley and yawned, "I'm more tired than hungry, so I think I will just head to bed, Mrs. Weasley."

"Are you sure, dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley, frowning. She had not began cooking yet, so Harry insisted.

"Yeah, Dumbledore and I _appeared_ a few times tonight and it wasn't a good experience," he said with a crooked grin. "I just need to sleep."

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Alright then, go up to bed. Good night you three."

Hermione looked at Harry questionably, as she noticed his stomach rumbling even though Mrs. Weasley hadn't. He just nodded at her, knowing she would understand the silent message, and together they walked up the stairs, Ron fallowing close behind. They entered the redhead's room, which was a complete mess, books and clothes spread all over the floor, the few posters of the Chudley Cannons still attached to the walls. The window from which the back yard could be seen, was wide open, letting a warm breeze into the room.

While Ron closed the door slowly, Harry and Hermione sat on the floor by the little table where their redhead friends had left his wand and the Daily Prophet that he had been reading. Once the three of them were facing each other, Hermione eyed Harry significantly, as though he was sickening for something. He thought he knew what was behind this, but he had no wish to discuss Sirius's death or any other miserable subject at the moment.

"So how was your summer?" Hermione asked. "Were the Muggles alright? Did they treat you okay?"

"Same as usual," said Harry, "they didn't talk to me much, but I like it better that way."

"Well, you've been off with Dumbledore," said Ron, taking his wand and started playing with it. "Where did you two go?"

"It wasn't that exciting. He just wanted me to help him persuade this old teacher to come out of retirement. His name's Horace Slughorn."

Neither Hermione or Ron looked surprised.

"Now that Umbridge has left, obviously we need a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, don't we?" stated Hermione. "So, what's he like?

"He looks a bit like a walrus, and he used to be Head of Slytherin," said Harry. "Something wrong, Hermione?" She was watching him as though expecting strange symptoms to manifest themselves at any moment. She rearranged her features hastily in an unconvincing smile.

"No, of course not! So, um, did Slughorn seem like he'll be a good teacher?"

"Dunno," said Harry, shrugging. "He can't be worse than Umbridge, can he?"

His two friends nodded.

"So not hungry down there, Harry?" asked Ron, changing the topic. "What was that about?"

He was silent for a moment, but finally said, trying to stop the smile from forming on his lips, "I just... I have something really important to tell you, it couldn't wait."

"And what's that?"

"Well," Harry began, "last week Dumbledore sent me a letter asking me to go to Hogwarts to see him; he had something really important to discuss with me. When I got there, he showed me Sirius' will." Hermione looked at Harry worryingly, but before she could say something, he spoke again. "The thing is that... it was divided in two."

At this, Ron and Hermione seemed taken aback, and they both shared a look before turning to Harry again.

"Who else could be in Sirius' will apart from you?" asked Hermione, frowning.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," he said, leaning closer to both. "Remember last year, when Sirius showed us his family tree, _'The Most Ancient House Of Black'_?" Ron and Hermione nodded, urging him to continue. "When you and the others left to go to eat, Sirius and I stayed for a little longer, and he told me a lot about his family and family members, like how the Weasleys and the Blacks are related."

"I remember," said Ron. "Almost everyone seems to be related to the Blacks."

"Yeah... but then he showed me his parents… and his _brothers_."

His two friends looked at him, both surprised. "Sirius had _two_ brothers?" questioned Hermione, and Harry nodded. "I remember Sirius telling us about Regulus, but I didn't know..."

"Me neither," said Harry, lowering his voice, "but he did, he had another brother."

_Harry was scanning the names around his Godfather's in the green tapestry attached to the wall with a Sticking Charm, and found another odd picture to his left: one of a handsome boy one or two years younger than himself, untamed short black hair over his head and dark eyes staring back at him; just like Regulus, he had a date of death below, both shearing the same year._

_Harry frowned._

_"_Magnus A. Black, 1954-1979_," he read aloud. "You had _two_ brothers."_

_Sirius reacted in a somehow strange manner, staring at the name with narrowed eyes and a look of utter pain instead of hate and disdain. "Yeah, Magnus was my older brother. He left when he was about to turn fourteen –for reasons I'm still not familiar with– and became a Death Eater a few years later. He dragged Regulus along with him into Voldemort's ranks."_

_Harry frowned again._

_Sirius smiled bitterly. "Magnus was really close to the Dark Lord for over ten years, in a way no one seems to understand. Until he was murdered by Voldemort himself."_

_"Why?"_

_Sirius shrugged. "I've been wondering the same thing for years."_

_"Did he attend Hogwarts?" asked Harry out of pure curiosity._

_"He was a proud Slytherin until he turned sixteen, and left after winter break the year I entered Hogwarts for the first time," Sirius said, a look of longing in his dark eyes. "That was the last time I ever saw him. He was a great brother… and a great wizard, guess that's the main reason why he was in Voldemort's list of favorites." Sirius traded his index finger over his brother's name and below, over a blank space. "I later found out he had a son, who was killed along with his mother a few years later after his own death. Until then, I had never heard of my brother again."_

_"But why aren't his wife and son here?" Harry asked, confused, staring at the place they both should have been._

_"The mother of his child was not his wife," explained Sirius, "So she wasn't legally part of the family; at least that's what I know. As to why his son doesn't appear here, that's a mystery I'll never solve, I'm afraid."_

Once Harry finished telling them about that memory, he remembered how Sirius had heaved a great sigh and cast a dark look at the family tree, as he and Harry went to join the others. That night, Harry had tried his best not to think about the green tapestry attached to the wall of the main hall, and everything he had learned about the Ancient House of Black, and especially about his Godfather's mysterious brother, Magnus A. Black.

Now, both Ron and Hermione stared at him in disbelief.

"But what does Sirius' brother have to do with Sirius' will?" asked Ron. "Even if he was still alive, I'm sure Sirius would have never left anything to him; I mean, he was a Death Eater after all, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, he was," nodded Harry, "But his son wasn't." Ron looked at him still confused, while Hermione's eyes widened as realization hit her. "Sirius lied to me; his brother's son was not dead. In fact, Dumbledore introduced me to him at our meeting in Hogwarts."

Ron's mouth formed an 'O'. "So there is another Black alive!" he exclaimed and Hermione hushed him. The three of them turned to the door, expecting Mrs. Weasley entering through it at any moment. But surprisingly and fortunately, she never appeared; they didn't even heard footsteps outside the room.

So Hermione, after giving Ron a warning glare, turned her attention back to Harry and whispered. "You met him, then? Magnus Black's son?"

"Yes," Harry said, smiling slightly; he was more than pleasant to know that there was another Black; he was more than happy to find out that there was another member of his Godfather's family who was not mad or was a Death Eater, someone else who was on his side and would willingly help him through the battle against Voldemort. "His name is Rabazthian."

"Rabazthian Black," Hermione repeated, lost in thought. "Why haven you met him before? I mean, he's Sirius' nephew, I don't understand why he wouldn't tell you about him."

"At Hogwarts, when I met him," Harry whispered, "I just couldn't believe it, I couldn't believe that this guy standing before me was related to Sirius, and just like you I was asking myself the same question: why haven't I been told about him before? So he asked me to accompany him to the Hospital Wing, as he was staying there -for reasons, he said, I would later understand- and explained everything to me. We talked for hours."

Harry made a pause then, remembering that moment and said all the things Rabazthian had told him, word by word.

"He was born in 1979, the same year his father died; his mother, who was a _muggle_, had nowhere to go, so Sirius gladly took her in. But by the time Rabazthian was three, well, you know what happened in 1981, and so he and his mother left the country; they lived in France for some time. But then, when he was seven, his mother was killed too by Death Eaters, who luckily never found him. But the authorities did; they sent him back to England and then to a _muggle_ orphanage, where he was raised, until he turned fourteen. He heard then, that Sirius had escaped, and so he intended to find him, and he did."

"He did?" Ron whispered, as he heard the story.

"Yes, he found Sirius by the time he was running free after Hermione and I released him," they both smiled at the memory. "They lived together for a while, until Rabazthian left once again."

"Why?" asked Hermione this time.

"Voldemort had returned, and if he ever found Rabazthian, there was no doubt he would kill him," Harry explained. "He feared for his nephew's life, so Rabazthian left while we started our fifth year."

"I still do not understand why Sirius wouldn't tell you about him," Ron commented, frowning.

"He was going to tell me," Harry said. "But by the time he and Rabazthian met again, my name had came out of the Goblet of Fire, and so neither Sirius nor Rabazthian wanted to add more things to worry me."

"And after the Triwizard Tournament?"

"Isn't that obvious?" responded Hermione, looking at Ron. "Harry's and You-Know-Who's minds were openly connected then. Sirius obviously didn't want to tell Harry about his nephew because he was afraid that… Voldemort might find out about their connection and so know Rabazthian whereabouts through Harry."

Harry nodded at his friend statement and the three stayed silent for a few minutes, pondering over the new information Harry had just shared with his two best friends, which had shocked both of them.

It sounded just _insane_; after everything that had happened in the last few years (and specially after Sirius death), Harry had another relative alive! Well, not someone directly related to him, but despite the none existent blood connection, Rabazthian Black was his late Godfather's nephew; even though he had lived with him for a short time, Rabazthian was related to Sirius, the person who had been the closest thing to a father to him, in a way no one else could understand except for Harry.

So of course he was glad that he had finally met him.

* * *

Harry would have never thought that he would be entering Hogwarts for the first time in the year with Severus Snape of all people.

At the end of the train ride, Harry had slide inside the carriage of the Slytherins, in his attempt to overhear Malfoy's conversation with his Slytherin fellows, as after what Harry, Ron and Hermione had seen and heard outside of Burgin and Burkes while Draco asked Burgin to mend something for him, Harry began to suspect that Malfoy was finally a Death Eater. But in the Slytherin carriage, Harry had exposed himself to Draco just by slightly moving Goyle's trunk, and so Draco had waited for everyone to get off the train and cursed Harry before punching him on the face and breaking his nose. He would have gone back to London (seeing as he was petrified in the floor) if it wasn't for Tonks, who found him right before the Hogwarts Express started its engine.

Now, Harry and Snape reached the castle steps and as the great oaken front doors swung open into the vast flagged entrance hall, a burst of talk and laughter and of tinkling plates and glasses greeted them through the doors standing open into the Great Hall. Harry wondered whether he could slip his Invisibility Cloak back on, thereby gaining his seat at the long Gryffindor table (which, inconveniently, was the farthest from the entrance hall) without being noticed. As though he had read Harry's mind, however, Snape said, "No cloak. You can walk in so that everyone sees you, which is what you wanted, I'm sure."

"There is no need for you to go there alone, Harry," said a male voice from behind both of them. Harry turned and found Rabazthian standing there, his icy blue eyes locked in Snape along with a smirk that threatened to play freely around his lips. His short brown hair was still untidy, reminding Harry of his own tousled locks. He had no longer the cast held against his chest, now his left arm was just covered by a white bandage; and instead of the _muggle_ clothes he had been wearing the first time they met, Rabazthian had now his Gryffindor robes on.

Harry was not surprised to see Rabazthian there in Hogwarts, ready to enter the Great Hall and enjoy of the great feast waiting for them beyond the open doors, as he had told Harry that he was coursing seventh grade that year. And Harry was glad that he had made his appearance in that moment, just in time to spoil Snape's plans.

"I'm afraid I was with Madame Pomfrey and did not realized the time, professor," Rabazthian explained before Snape could take more of Gryffindor points away. "She finished with my arm just minutes ago, that's why I'm late for the feast."

"I was aware of that, Black," said Snape staring at the young man before him. "Now go you two, we don't have all night."

Snape turned and walked pass Harry, straight through the open doors.

"Thank you for that," said Harry, turning to Rabazthian. "Snape always finds the way to take Gryffindor's points away, and it seems it's his duty to make my school year miserable."

Rabazthian smiled sympathetically. "Don't worry, Harry. I've got your back."

They both turned on the spot and marched into the Great Hall, side by side. The Great Hall, with its four long House tables and its staff table set at the top of the room, was decorated as usual with floating candles that made the plates below glitter and glow. If he had been alone in the same situation, it would all have been a shimmering blur to Harry, who'd walked so fast that he'd passed the Hufflepuff table before people really started to stare. This time, however, with Rabazthian by his side, Harry didn't care at all if people stared, and they were for sure, as the chosen one was walking in late along with a new face; by the time the other houses were standing up to get a good look at them, Harry had spotted Ron and Hermione, sped along the benches toward them, and forced his way in between both, while Rabazthian sat in the other bench, facing the three and beside Ginny and Neville.

"Where've you — blimey, what've you done to your face?" said Ron, goggling at him along with everyone else in the vicinity.

"Why, what's wrong with it?" said Harry, grabbing a spoon and squinting at his distorted reflection.

"You're covered in blood, Harry," explained Rabazthian, making everyone turn to him. "Sorry, I should have realized sooner that it would draw some attention-"

To everyone's surprise (except for Harry), he raised his wand, said "Tergeo!" and handed Harry a handkerchief to dried blood.

"Thanks," said Harry, feeling his now clean face. "How's my nose looking?

"Normal," said Rabazthian, smirking. "But watch it, Snape may take some points away for it."

Harry snorted at the little joke.

"Harry, what happened? " asked Hermione anxiously, turning back to her friend. "We've been terrified!"

"I'll tell you later," said Harry curtly. He was very conscious that Ginny, Neville, Dean, and Seamus were listening in; even Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had come floating along the bench to eavesdrop.

"But —" said Hermione.

"Not now, Hermione," said Harry, in a darkly significant voice. He very much believed that they would all assume he had been involved in something heroic, preferably involving a couple of Death Eaters and a dementor. Of course, Malfoy would spread the story as wide as he could, but there was always a chance it wouldn't reach too many Gryffindor ears. He reached across Ron for a couple of chicken legs and a handful of chips, but before he could take them they vanished, to be replaced with puddings.

"You missed the Sorting, anyway," said Hermione, as Ron dived for a large chocolate gateau.

Harry shrugged but heard Rabazthian sighing under his breath and looked up at him questionably. "I would have loved to see the Sorting," he explained.

"It's not a big deal, don't worry," Harry assured him. "We just sit here and watch how the new kids get selected to their houses. It's quite tedious, really."

"Yeah, but this is the first and last time I'm here in Hogwarts," said Rabazthian and Harry nodded; though it was a really boring experience for Harry, it could have been Rabazthian's only chance to witness such a thing.

As they both exchanged those few words, Ron and Hermione simultaneously look at the stranger and then at Harry, silently urging him to introduce their new house mate.

"Oh, sorry," Harry said, "Ron, Hermione, this is Rabazthian Black."

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**_Pleaseeeee, R/R! Thank you!_**


	3. The feast, breakfast, and curses

_**Alright, here's chapter 2. Please, leave a review, I would really appreciate it!**_

_**Thank you for reading!**_

_****__**I do not own Harry Potter or any of its character. They belong to the wonderful J.K Rowling!**_

* * *

_Chapter 2. __The feast, breakfast, and curses_

Everyone around was left speechless (as almost everyone in the vicinity was overhearing their conversation), even Ron and Hermione, both being enlightened by Harry about who Rabazthian Black was before being introduce to him, but the astonishment was expected anyways. Ginny, Neville, Dean, Seamus, and even Nearly Headless Nick stared at Rabazthian for a few seconds, while he chuckled at his house mates' silly but anticipated reaction. He was a Black, after all, he knew his name would always cause controversy around him, and he was just okay with it.

"Black?" asked Ginny, still staring at Rabazthian. He nodded along with Harry. "Are you...?" The redhead girl trailed off.

"Sirius' son?" Rabazthian guessed, and Ginny nodded while the rest eagerly wait for the reply, apart from Ron and Hermione, who already knew the answer. "No, I'm his nephew." They surely hoped for more information, but Rabazthian did not intend in telling anything there, right where anyone could hear loud and clear, so he quickly excused himself, "It's a long story that can wait for later."

"So it's true," Hermione mumbled scrutinizing the factions of the new Gryffindor, maybe trying to find similarities with his uncle, finding resemblance only in the atmosphere of insouciance and kindness surrounding him, and his arrogantly handsome looks. "I mean, of course it is but... I just cannot believe you're really related to Sirius."

"Well, yeah, I'm a Black," said Rabazthian with a half smile. "At least, that's what my grandmother's portrait never forgets to remind me every time I see her." He snorted and mimicked the high pitched voice of Walburga Black, the witch who had once made it clear through her disgust of having anyone less than pure-blood in her home through the hostile shrieks of her portrait, which was affixed to the wall of Grimmauld Place with a Permanent Sticking Charm, while the rest of the Gryffindors around him laughed at the little inside joke. "Now that the house is yours, Harry, I'd try anything to get rid of that detestable portrait. Merlin knows how much Sirius and I hated that woman!"

Harry grinned. "You know, I think I never thanked you for making sure the house was mine," he said. "Dumbledore told me it could have been transferred to Bellatrix."

"Sirius left it to you, Harry, and you only," said Rabazthian while getting some pudding into his mouth. "I just did what my uncle wanted, which was the right thing, and let's say I would have never approve of that woman taking Grimmauld Place as hers; I'd have done the impossible to make sure she didn't get her dreadful hands over it."

Harry nodded in agreement and turned to Hermione, who was looking in between both. "So, has Dumbledore mentioned Voldemort at all?"

"Not yet, but he always saves his proper speech for after the feast, doesn't he? It can't be long now," said Hermione, as Ron dived for a large chocolate gateau and while the others got in their own little conversations, that were mainly about the new member of the crimson and scarlet House.

"Hat say anything interesting?" asked Harry, taking a piece of treacle tart.

"More of the same, really… advising us all to unite in the face enemies, you know," said Ron.

"Hat?" asked a confused Rabazthian, looking around for said item.

"The Sorting Hat is a sentient Hogwarts artifact which magically determines to which of the four Houses each new student is to be assigned," explained Hermione. "It is only used in the Sorting Ceremony, which you unfortunately could not see."

Rabazthian nodded.

"Where were you, by the way?" asked Harry out of curiosity.

"Drop by the Hospital Wing to check on my arm. Madam Pomfrey was really worried about it, and said I couldn't wait to get my set of charms and potions to get it finally healed."

"What happened to your arm?" asked Hermione, looking at the bandage covering part of his left hand, wrist and forearm.

"Long story, I'll tell you some other time," answered Rabazthian, evasively, while staring at the high table positioned at the far end of the Great Hall. "Who's the one waving this direction?"

The other three looked over at Hagrid, who was indeed waving at them. Hagrid had never quite managed to comport himself with the dignity of Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, the top of whose head came up to somewhere between Hagrid's elbow and shoulder as they were sitting side by side, and who was looking disapprovingly at this enthusiastic greeting.

"That's Hagrid," said Hermione turning back to Rabazthian. "He's the gatekeeper and Professor of Care of Magical Creatures. He's a really good friend of ours."

"I recall Sirius telling me about him," Rabazthian mumbled, and then turned to Hermione with a crocked smile. "I'd really love to meet him. You should introduce us sometime, he doesn't know about me yet. I think he's going to faint once I tell him- Sirius said they were close friends..."

Hermione nodded, a sad smile over her lips.

Harry was still looking over the professors' table and was surprised to see the Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney, sitting on Hagrid's other side; she rarely left her tower room, and he had never seen her at the start-of-term feast before. She looked as odd as ever, glittering with beads and trailing shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size by her spectacles. Having always considered her a bit of a fraud, Harry had been shocked to discover at the end of the previous term that it had been she who had made the prediction that caused Lord Voldemort to kill Harry's parents and attack Harry himself. The knowledge made him even less eager to find himself in her company, thankfully, this year he would be dropping Divination.

Her great beaconlike eyes swiveled in his direction; he hastily looked away toward the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy was miming the shatterering of a nose to raucous laughter and applause. Harry dropped his gaze to his treacle tart, his insides burning again. What he would give to fight Malfoy one-on-one...

"What happened to his hand?" gasped Hermione.

She was not the only one who had noticed. Dumbledore's right hand was as blackened and dead-looking as it had been on the night he had come to fetch Harry from the Dursleys, nor weeks before, when Harry had traveled all the way to Hogwarts to speak with Dumbledore about Sirius' will. Whispers began to hover in the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his grey sleeve over his injury.

"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. "Now... to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you…"

"His hand was like that when I saw him over the summer," Harry whispered to Hermione, neither of them noticing Rabazthian' strange look of concern. "I thought he'd have cured it by now, though... or Madam Pomfrey would've done something about it."

"It looks as if it's died," said Hermione, with a nauseated expression. "But there are some injuries you can't cure... old curses… and there are poisons without antidotes…"

"…and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," Dumbledore continued. "Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise."

"Quidditch," Rabazthian half grinned.

"You play?" asked Ron, he and Harry turning to him.

"Yeah, I'm quite a good Chaser if I say so myself," said Rabazthian smirking.

"I'm the Capitan this year," whispered Harry. "You should try out!"

Rabazthian nodded. "Sure, I will."

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year, Professor Slughorn"— Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big waistcoated belly casting the table into shadow — "is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

"Potions?"

"Potions?"

The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered wheel they had heard right.

"Potions?" said Ron and Hermione together, turning to stare at Harry. "But you said —"

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising his voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"No!" said Harry, so loudly that many heads turned in his direction. He did not care; he was staring up at the staff table, incensed. How could Snape be given the Defense Against the Dark Arts job after all this time? Hadn't it been widely known for years that Dumbledore did not trust him to do it?

"But Harry, you said that Slughorn was going to be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts!" said Hermione.

"I thought he was!" said Harry, racking his brains to remember when Dumbledore had told him this, but now that he came to think of it, he was unable to recall Dumbledore ever telling him what Slughorn would be teaching. Snape, who was sitting on Dumbledore's right, did not stand up his mention of his name; he merely raised a hand in lazy acknowledgment of the applause from the Slytherin table, yet Harry was sure he could detect a look of triumph on the features he loathed so much. "He won't teach us, I'm sure of it! We won't learn a thing coming from him."

"He can't be worse than Umbridge, really," Hermione whispered, and it was Neville who replied first.

"Of course he can," he whispered, staring at the ex potion professor with something akin to fear in his eyes; he then turned to Harry. "We have to start the D.A meetings again, Harry."

"Yeah we should,"

"That's a great idea, Nev."

"You know he's right, Harry," said Ginny.

"What's the D.A?" asked Rabazthian, confused.

"Last year, our DADA professor, Dolores Umbridge, didn't want to teach us how to defend ourselves, seeing as the Ministry of Magic didn't believe in You-Know-Who's return, and she served as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister," explained Ron. "So Hermione had the brilliant idea to let Harry teach us, I'm sure you've heard of his skills, and so we created the D.A (Dumbledore's Army), which was a secret group of students meeting to train and prepare ourselves under Harry's teachings."

"Wow, Harry, then you really are the great wizard Sirius assured me you were," Rabazthian said, and Harry's heart ached in the desire of his Godfather back to life.

He smiled at Rabazthian's statement. "I guess we can call back the D.A, but we'll talk about it later, okay?" he said turning back to look at Snape with a hateful glare. "Well, there's one good thing about Snape getting the DADA's teaching position," he whispered savagely. "Snape'll be gone by the end of the year."

Rabazthian instantly looked up, staring at Harry.

"What do you mean?" asked Ron.

"That job's jinxed." Harry elaborated and Rabazthian silently sighed, no one noticing. "No one's lasted more than a year… Quirrell actually died doing it… Personally, I'm going to keep my fingers crossed for another death…"

"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione, shocked and reproachful.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. Harry, Ron, Rabazthian and Hermione were not the only ones who had been talking; the whole Hall had erupted in a buzz of conversation at the news that Snape had finally achieved his heart's desire. Seemingly oblivious to the sensational nature of the news he had just imparted, Dumbledore said nothing more about staff appointments, but waited a few seconds to ensure that the silence was absolute before continuing. "Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength."

The silence seemed to tauten and strain as Dumbledore spoke. Harry glanced at Malfoy. Malfoy was not looking at Dumbledore, but making his fork hover in midair with his wand, as though he found the headmaster's words unworthy of his attention.

"Once there was young man, who like all of you, sat in this very hall, he walked through the corridors of this castle, he slept under the same roof, and to everyone, he seemed to be a student like any other. His name… _Tom Riddle_." Everyone on the Great Hall started murmuring. "Today, of course, we know him by another name, which is why, as I stand here before all of you tonight, I'm reminded of a disturbing fact: every day, every hour, perhaps in this very moment, dark forces are trying to penetrate this school's walls. I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe."

"The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that the teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them — in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of the dormitories at the late hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety, as at the end," Dumbledore's blue eyes swept over the students before falling upon Rabazthian, "the most greatest weapon is you. Think about that. Now everyone, off to bad!"

With the usual deafening scraping noise, the benches moved back and the hundreds of students began to file out of the Great Hall toward their dormitories. Harry, who was in no hurry at all to leave with the gawping crowd, nor to get near enough to Malfoy to allow him to retell the story of the nose-stamping, lagged behind, pretending to retie the lace on his trainer, allowing most of Gryffindors to draw ahead of him. Hermione and Ron had darted ahead to fulfill her prefect's duty of shepherding the first years, but Rabazthian remained with Harry.

"So you want to tell me what really happened to your nose?" he asked, once they were at the very back of the throng pressing out of the Hall, and out of earshot of anyone else.

Although they knew each other for a very short time, and even though Harry liked talking with the remaining Black, Harry already thought very highly of Rabazthian, seeing as he was Sirius' nephew and did nothing else but remind him of his Godfather, both personalities quite alike. So Harry told him; it was something he would have told Ron or Hermione if he knew they would support him, but he now knew he had found a new trustable friendship in Rabazthian, a friendship that could grow to be more likely brotherhood, as they used to share part of the same family.

"I see Draco Malfoy is nothing but a cocky son of a-" he mumbled darkly.

"Yeah, well, never mind that," said Harry bitterly. "Listen to what he was saying before he found out I was there…"

Harry had expected Rabazthian to be stunned by Malfoy's boasts. With what Harry considered pure pigheadedness, however, Rabazthian was unimpressed, more like thoughtful. He told him then, what he thought about the entire situiation, how he suspected about Malfoy. "Sirius told me a lot about the Malfoy family," Rabazthian said. "I wouldn't be surprised at all if Draco fallowed his father's steps. Lucius used to be, after all, one of the most trustable Death Eaters to Voldemort, until, of course, he failed to him in the Ministry of Magic. You know, Voldemort may want to see if Draco could be useful, just like his father once was. And if not..." Rabazthian trailed off, and turned to Harry. "But the real question is, if Voldemort really commanded Malfoy to do something, what was it?"

Harry was more than pleased to know that someone supported him about his suspicions about Malfoy, and so said, "That's what we are going to find out."

* * *

Harry and Ron met Hermione in the common room before breakfast next morning. Hoping for the support of his two best friends in his theory, Harry lost no time in telling both what he had overheard Malfoy saying on the Hogwarts Express and what he had already told Rabazthian the night before, right after the feast.

"He was obviously showing off for Parkinson, wasn't he?" interjected Ron quickly, before Hermione could say anything.

"Well," she said uncertainly, "I don't know. It would be like Malfoy to make himself seem more important than he is... but that's a big lie to tell..."

"Exactly," said Harry, but he could nor press the point, because so many people were trying to listen in to his conversation, not to mention staring at him and whispering behind their hands.

"It's rude to point," Ron snapped at a particularly minuscule first-year boy as they joined the queue to climb out of the portrait hole. The boy, who had been muttering something about Harry behind his hand to his friend, promptly turned scarlet and toppled out of the hole in alarm. Ron sniggered. "I love being a sixth year. And were going to be getting free time this year. Whole periods when we can just sit up here and relax."

"Oh, wait to be a seventh year, then," said someone at their backs, the three turning to be met by Rabazthian, his bag over hies righ shoulder. He was not wearing the black cloak of the Gryffindor House, just the grey sweater and a smirk over his lips. "Everyone you stares at you. It's quite scary, if you ask me."

"That's not because you're a seventh year," said Ron, grinning. "That's because you're the new student and, in some way, related to Harry."

"I think it's just ridiculous," Rabazthian replayed, but turn when he felt someone staring form behind, and caught two girls of fifth year giggling over themselves while watching his every move. He smirked and winked at them, both bursting in another fit of giggling. "Though, I like all this girl attention. I could get used to the famale population staring at me all day long, I don't mind, really."

"Oh, yes," said Harry, laughing. "You are Sirius' nephew, there's no doubt now."

"Hold it!" exclaimed Hermione, who had been trying to laguh, turning serious all of a sudden and throwing out an arm and halting a passing fourth year, who was attempting to push past her with a lime-green disk clutched tightly in his hand. "Fanged Frisbees banned, hand it over," she told him sternly. The scowling boy handed over the snarling Frisbee, ducked under her arm, and took off after his friends. Ron waited for him to vanish, then tugged the Frisbee from Hermione's grip.

"Excellent, I've always wanted one of these." Hermione's remonstration was drowned by a loud giggle; Lavender Brown had apparently found Ron's remark highly amusing. She continued to laugh as she passed them, glancing back at Ron over her shoulder. Ron looked rather pleased with himself.

The ceiling of the Great Hall was serenely blue and streaked with frail, wispy clouds, just like the squares of sky visible through the high mullioned windows. While they tucked into porridge and eggs and bacon, Harry and Rabazthian told Hermione and Ron about their conversation the previous evening, in which both had agreed on finding out what was Draco's attitude all about. Both refused to be part of their little team, since (as Hermione had expressed perfectly) they still were not sure if Malfoy's behavior was strange enough.

After they had eaten, they remained in their places, awaiting Professor McGonagall's descent from the staff table. The distribution of class schedules was more complicated than usual this year, for Professor McGonagall needed first to confirm that everybody had achieved the necessary O.W.L. grades to continue with their chosen N.E.W.T.s. Hermione was immediately cleared to continue with Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions, and shot off to a first period Ancient Runes class without further ado. Neville took a little longer to sort out; his round face was anxious as Professor McGonagall looked down his application and then consulted his O.W.L results.

"So, Potter, Potter..." said Professor McGonagall, consulting her notes as she turned to Harry after she had helped Neville choosing correctly. "Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration... all fine. I must say, I was pleased with your Transfiguration mark, Potter, very pleased. Now, why haven't you applied to continue with Potions? I thought it was your ambition to become an Auror?"

"It was, but you told me I had to get an 'Outstanding' in my O.W.L., Professor," said Harry.

"And so you did when Professor Snape was teaching the subject. Professor Slughorn, however, is perfectly happy to accept N.E.W.T. students with 'Exceeds Expectations' at O.W.L. Do you wish to proceed with Potions?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I didn't buy the books or any ingredients or anything-"

"I'm sure Professor Slughorn will be able to lend you some," assured Professor McGonagall. "Very well, Potter, here is your schedule. Oh, by the way- twenty hopefuls have already put down their names for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I shall pass the list to you in due course and you can fix up trials at your leisure." She then turned to Rabazthian with friendly smile. "I've heard you will try for the team, Mr. Black, so good luck. For the more important things, Albus told me he shall be waiting for you in his office this afternoon after your latest period. Oh, and now that you don't have the need to stay in the Hospital Wing, I advise you to tour the castle. How is your arm, by the way?"

"It's perfectly fine, professor," Rabazthian said with a smile.

"I'm glad," And without another word, she left to help the other students.

"So are you going to tell us what happened to your arm?" asked Harry, nodding toward the bandage.

"It was a curse," he said simply.

The trio was taken aback.

"When did you get cursed?" asked Hermione, surprised.

Rabazthian glanced around to make sure no one could hear their conversation, and leaned in. "Death Eaters. Why did you think I would come to Hogwarts in the first place? Because of this Voldemort knows I'm alive now, Hermione, and he searched for me, until I safely got here. You heard Dumbledore yesterday, the castle protective shields are stronger than before, so Dumbledore thought it would be a great idea to get me in here for my own protection."

"What kind of course reached your arm?"

"I don't know, really," Rabazthian said, lifting his arm to take a look at the bandage. "It was the day they took Ollivander, the wand maker. I had come back to England right after I found out about Sirius... and I couldn't stay at Grimmauld Place, since Dumbledore believed that it would be dangerous now that Sirius was gone... So I was staying at the Leaky Cauldron. I don't really know how it happened, one moment I was walking by the streets of the Diagon Alley and then Yaxley and Dolohov were chasing me. Dolohov was the one who hit me with the course."

Hermione made a face and stood up quickly, looking everywhere but Rabazthian' eyes. "We should go," she said to Harry and Ron. "We have Defence Against Dark Arts with Snape."

Not bothering to wait for her two friends, she turned around and left, while Rabazthian looked her every move.

* * *

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	4. The Half Blood Prince

_**Please, leave a review, I would really appreciate it!**_

_**Thank you for reading and for the reviews!**_

_**I do not own Harry Potter or any of its character. They belong to the wonderful J.K Rowling!**_

* * *

_Chapter 3. The Half Blood Prince_

Rabazthian was confused. He just had told the trio about his arm, something they had wanted to know since they had found out, and now Hermione was hurriedly walking away from the Gryffindor table, almost fearful. Was it something he had said? Rabazthian didn't know, but now wanted to know the reason for Hermione's quick flight.

So he did not bother to ask Harry nor Ron, he just quickly shoved his things inside his bag and instinctively ran after her, out of the Great Hall and into the corridors. He passed by a few other Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, and almost fall over a Slytherin who cursed him under his breath, though Rabazthian did not pay attention and kept running after Hermione, who was still deep in thought as to realize he was chasing after her.

"Hermione, wait up!" Rabazthian shouted, a few heads turning in his direction, including Hermione's. She seemed uncomfortable but waited for him, seeing as she couldn't walk away now.

He slowed down his pace, and stopped right before her, realizing now that he did not know exactly what to say. "I'm... I'm sorry," he finally said.

"Why are you sorry?" Hermione asked, both resuming the slow march.

"I just, I don't know what I said back there in the Great Hall," Rabazthian explained, looking at her profile, "I just could see that it bothered you, so… I'm sorry."

Hermione smiled warmly. "There's no need for you to feel sorry. You did nothing wrong, it's just, what you said about Dolohov…" She trailed off, finding the little piece of torn fabric of her backpack quite interesting, and Rabazthian stopped death in his tracks once more, taking a hold of her arm.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he said. "Just know that if you do want to talk about it, I'll listen willingly." Hermione nodded, grateful. Rabazthian grinned. "Let me walk you to your class… Though, now that I come think about it, I really don't know where that is..."

Hermione laughed and both began walking towards her class again. "Right, I almost forgot that you haven't seen the entire castle yet."

"Just the Hospital Wing. It's really boring over there, if you ask me," Rabazthian chuckled. "You know, I need someone to tour me around the school, you heard McGonagall back there. Would you show me around?"

"Of course," Hermione said. "I'd love to. I have a free period after lunch."

Rabazthian pulled his schedule out of his bag. "Um... Great, I've got a free period too."

Meanwhile, after Ron was cleared to do the same subjects as Harry, the two of them left the table together, still talking about Rabazthian rushed exit of the Great Hall in search of Hermione. "He was pretty hurried, wasn't he?" Ron had mumbled harshly, and Harry just shrugged, not quite interested about it as Ron was.

They made their way towards Snape's classroom through a corridor full with seventh years, including Katie Bell, the only remaining member of the original Gryffindor Quidditch team that Harry had joined in his first year. "I thought you'd get that, well done," she called over, pointing at the Captains badge on Harry's chest. "Tell me when you call trials!"

"Don't be stupid," said Harry, "you don't need to try out, I've watched you play for five years…"

"You mustn't start off like that," she said warningly. "For all you know, there's someone much better than me out there. Good teams have been ruined before because Captains just kept playing the old faces, or letting in their friends..." Ron looked a little uncomfortable and began playing with the Fanged Frisbee Hermione had taken from the fourth-year student. It zoomed around their heads, snarling and attempting to take bites of their robes.

Harry and Ron kept walking for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom three floors above. Hermione was already outside the classroom, Rabazthian right by her side, both chatting about something that looked quite amusing, as they were laughing at something Rabazthian had just said. When he saw Harry and Ron approaching, he waved at them, still grinning.

"Hey," Hermione greeted them.

"What are you doing here?" asked Ron rather bluntly, looking at Rabazthian, who frowned, taken aback. "I mean, don´t you have class with McGonagall now?"

"Yeah, but I decided to accompany Hermione here," Rabazthian answered, simply. "Now, I've learnt my way to Snape's classroom. Though, now that I come to think about it, you should have accompanied me to my classroom, Hermione, seeing as now I have no clue how to get there..."

Hermione laughed. "Transfiguration is located on the ground floor around the Middle Courtyard. Don't worry, you'll find it easily. If you don't, go back to the Great Hall, I'm sure there'll be one of your classmates."

The classroom door opened as she spoke, and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately. "Inside," he said, and while the students made their way into the classroom, Snape turned to Rabazthian. "What are you doing here Mr. Black? I believe professor McGonagall has already began with today's lesson."

Rabazthian stared at Snape in a strange manner, Ron noticed looking over his shoulder, almost as if trying to hide a smirk. "Certainly… professor," he said, and made his way back through the corridors towards Transfiguration.

* * *

"That was brilliant, Harry!" chortled Ron, once they were safely on their way to break a short while later.

They had just left Defense Against Dark Arts, where Harry had had a little argument with Snape, which ended in a night of detention for Harry, seeing as he had made a fool of Snape after he had made a Shield Charm so strong that had knocked Snape off-balance making him hit a desk. The whole class had looked around and watched as Snape righted himself, scowling.

"Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?"

"Yes," had retorted Harry stiffly.

"Yes, _sir_."

"There's no need to call me 'sir', Professor." The words had escaped him before he knew what he was saying. Several people had gasped, including Hermione. Behind Snape, however, Ron, Dean, and Seamus had grinned appreciatively.

"You really shouldn't have said that," reproached Hermione, frowning at Ron. "What made you?"

"He tried to jinx me, in case you didn't notice!" fumed Harry. "I had enough of that during those Occlumency lessons last year! Why doesn't he use another guinea pig for a change? What's Dumbledore playing at, anyway, letting him teach Defense? Did you hear him talking about the Dark Arts? He loves them! All that unfixed, indestructible stuff –"

"Well," said Hermione, "I thought he sounded a bit like you."

"Like me?"

"Yes, when you were telling us what it's like to face Voldemort. You said it wasn't just memorizing a bunch of spells, you said it was just you and your brains and your guts - well, wasn't that what Snape was saying? That it really comes down to being brave and quick-thinking?"

Harry was so disarmed that she had thought his words as well worth memorizing as The Standard Book of Spells that he did not argue.

"Harry! Hey, Harry!"

Harry looked around; Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on last year's Gryffindor Quidditch team, was hurrying toward him holding a roll of parchment. "For you," panted Sloper. "Listen, I heard you're the new Captain. When're you holding trials?"

"I'm not sure yet," said Harry, thinking privately that Sloper would be very lucky to get back on the team. "I'll let you know."

"Oh, right. I was hoping it'd be this weekend -"

But Harry was not listening; he had just recognized the thin, slanting writing on the parchment. Leaving Sloper in mid-sentence, he hurried away with Ron and Hermione, unrolling the parchment as he went.

_Dear Harry, _

_I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at 8 P.M. I hope you are enjoying your first day back at school. _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Albus Dumbledore _

_P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops. _

"He enjoys Acid Pops?" asked Ron, who had read the message over Harry's shoulder and was looking perplexed.

"It's the password to get past the gargoyle outside his study," said Harry in a low voice. "Ha! Snape's not going to be pleased… I won't be able to do his detention!"

He, Ron, and Hermione spent the whole of break speculating on what Dumbledore would teach Harry. Ron thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes and hexes of the type the Death Eaters would not know. Hermione said such things were illegal, and thought it much more likely that Dumbledore wanted to teach Harry advanced Defensive magic. After break, she went off to Arithmancy while Harry and Ron returned to the common room where they grudgingly started Snape's homework. This turned out to be so complex that they still had not finished when Hermione joined them for their after-lunch free period.

"So, are you going to show me around now?" asked Rabazthian looking at Hermione, while he entered the common room through the Fat Lady portrait. "It's kind of urgent, you know? I was almost late for Transfiguration. I was lucky to find Katie at the corridors."

Hermione laughed. "Yes, I can show you the castle now." She turned to Harry and Ron. "Want to come with us?"

She secretly and surprisingly hoped they both would deny the offer, but it was no surprise that the two friends agreed, seeing as neither of them wanted to keep working on their DADA homework. So the four left the common room, with the new aim to show Rabazthian the entire castle, as the trio had just less than two hours before the afternoon's double Potions.

They had time enough to show Rabazthian his way to all his classes, to tour him throughout the ground floor, the gardens and around the lake, in particular, the tree in which the trio always met when it was warm outside. But they had no time to show him the Astronomy Tower, and the view of the castle that could be seen over there. "I'll show you the tower some other time," Hermione promised, and Rabazthian nodded.

"I'd like that," he said smiling, and chuckled as he saw from the corner of his eye Ron's face turning rather pink. "I'll see you three later."

Rabazthian had just turned the corner when the bell rang for the afternoon's double Potions and the trio beat the familiar path down to the dungeon classroom that had, for so long, been Snape's. When they arrived in the corridor they saw that there were only a dozen people progressing to N.E.W.T. level. Crabbe and Goyle had evidently failed to achieve the required O.W.L. grade, but four Slytherins had made it through, including Malfoy. Four Ravenclaws were there, and one Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan, whom Harry liked despite his rather pompous manner.

"Harry," Ernie said portentously, holding out his hand as Harry approached, "didn't get a chance to speak in Defense Against The Dark Arts this morning. Good lesson, I thought, but Shield Charms are old hat, of course, for us old D.A. lags... And how are you, Ron, Hermione?"

Before they could say more than "fine," the dungeon door opened and Slughorn's belly preceded him out of the door. As they filed into the room, his great walrus mustache curved above his beaming mouth, and he greeted Harry and Zabini with particular enthusiasm. The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapors and odd smells. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons. The four Slytherins took a table together, as did the four Ravenclaws. This left Harry, Ron, and Hermione to share a table with Ernie.

They chose the one nearest a gold-colored cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Harry had ever inhaled: Somehow it reminded him simultaneously of treacle tart, the woody smell of a broomstick handle, and something flowery he thought he might have smelled at the Burrow. He found that he was breathing very slowly and deeply and that the potion's fumes seemed to be filling him up like drink. A great contentment stole over him; he grinned across at Ron, who grinned back lazily.

"Now," said Slughorn, whose massive outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapors. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making…"

"Sir?" said Harry, raising his hand.

"Harry, m'boy?"

"I haven't got a book or scales or anything - nor's Ron - we didn't realize we'd be able to do the N.E.W.T., you see -"

"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention… not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scales, and we've got a small stock of old books here, they'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts…"

Slughorn strode over to a corner cupboard and, after a moment's foraging, emerged with two very battered-looking copies of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage, which he gave to Harry and Ron along with two sets of tarnished scales.

"Now then," said Slughorn, returning to the front of the class and inflating his already bulging chest so that the buttons on his waistcoat threatened to burst off, "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

He indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. Harry raised himself slightly in his seat and saw what looked like plain water boiling away inside it.

Hermione's well-practiced hand hit the air before anybody else's; Slughorn pointed at her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," said Hermione.

"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. "Now," he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, "this one here is pretty well known… Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too… Who can - ?"

Hermione's hand was fastest once more. "lt's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she said.

Harry too had recognized the slow-bubbling, mudlike substance the second cauldron, but did not resent Hermione getting the credit for answering the question; she, after all, was the one who had succeeded in making it, back in their second year. "Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here… yes, my dear?" said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused, as Hermione's hand punched the air again.

"It's Amortentia."

"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask," said Slughorn, who was looking mightily impressed, "but I assume you know what it does?"

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world and it's supposed to smell differently to each of according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and -"

But she turned slightly pink and did not complete the sentence.

"May I ask your name, my dear?" said Slughorn, ignoring Hermione's embarrassment.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"No. I don't think so, sir. I'm muggleborn, you see."

Harry saw Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper something; both of them sniggered, but Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary, he beamed and looked from Hermione to Harry, who was sitting next to her.

"Oho! 'One of my best friends is muggleborn, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry.

"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger," said Slughorn genially.

Malfoy looked rather as he had done the time Hermione had punched him in the face. Hermione turned to Harry with a radiant expression and whispered, "Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year? Oh, Harry!"

"Well, what's so impressive about that?" whispered Ron, who for some reason looked annoyed. "You are the best in the year - I'd have told him so if he'd asked me!"

Hermione made a "shhing" gesture, so that they could hear what Slughorn was saying. Ron looked slightly disgruntled.

"Amortentia doesn't really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room - oh yes," he said, nodding gravely at Malfoy and Nott, both of whom were smirking skeptically. "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love."

"Sir, you haven't told us what's in this one," said Ernie Macmillan, pointing at a small black cauldron standing on Slughorn's desk. The potion within was splashing about merrily; it was the color of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.

"Oho," said Slughorn again. Harry was sure that Slughorn had not forgotten the potion at all, but had waited to be asked for dramatic effect. "Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he turned, smiling, to look at Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp, "that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?"

"It's liquid luck," said Hermione excitedly. "It makes you lucky!"

The whole class seemed to sit up a little straighter. Now all Harry could see of Malfoy was the back of his sleek blond head, because he was at last giving Slughorn his full and undivided attention.

"Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," said Slughorn. "Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed... at least until the effects wears off."

"Why don't people drink it all the time, sir?" said Terry Boot eagerly.

"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence," explained Slughorn. "Too much of a good thing, you know… highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally…"

"Have you ever taken it, sir?" asked Michael Corner with great interest.

"Twice in my life," said Slughorn. "Once when I was twenty four, once when I was fifty seven. Two tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast. Two perfect days." He gazed dreamily into the distance. Whether he was playacting or not, thought Harry, the effect was good.

"And that," said Slughorn, apparently coming back to earth, "is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."

There was silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the surrounding potions seemed magnified tenfold.

"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," said Slughorn, taking a minuscule glass bottle with a cork in it out of his pocket and showing it to them all. "Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt."

"Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competitions… sporting events, for instance, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only… and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary!"

"So," said Slughorn, suddenly brisk, "how are you to win this fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"

There was a scraping as everyone drew their cauldrons toward them and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to their scales, but nobody spoke. The concentration within the room was almost tangible. Harry saw Malfoy riffling feverishly through his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. It could not have been clearer that Malfoy really wanted that lucky day. Harry bent swiftly over the tattered book Slughorn had lent him.

To his annoyance he saw that the previous owner had scribbled all over the pages, so that the margins were as black as the printed portions. Bending low to decipher the ingredients (even here, the previous owner had made annotations and crossed things out) Harry hurried off toward the store cupboard to find what he needed. As he dashed back to his cauldron, he saw Malfoy cutting up Valerian roots as fast as he could. Everyone kept glancing around at what the rest of the class was doing; this was both an advantage and a disadvantage of Potions, that it was hard to keep your work private.

Within ten minutes, the whole place was full of bluish steam. Hermione, of course, seemed to have progressed furthest. Her potion already resembled the "smooth, black currant-colored liquid" mentioned as the ideal halfway stage.

Having finished chopping his roots, Harry bent low over his book again. It was really very irritating, having to try and decipher the directions under all the stupid scribbles of the previous owner, who for some reason had taken issue with the order to cut up the sopophorous bean and had written in the alternative instruction: _Crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting._

Harry crushed his bean with the flat side of the dagger. To his astonishment, it immediately exuded so much juice he was amazed the shriveled bean could have held it all. Hastily scooping it all into the cauldron he saw, to his surprise, that the potion immediately turned exactly the shade of lilac described by the textbook.

"And time's… up!" called Slughorn a few minutes later. "Stop stirring, please!"

Slughorn moved slowly among the tables, peering into cauldrons. He made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a stir or a sniff. At last he reached the table where Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ernie were sitting. He smiled ruefully at the tarlike substance in Ron's cauldron. He passed over Ernie's navy concoction. Hermione's potion he gave an approving nod. Then he saw Harry's, and a look of incredulous delight spread over his face.

"The clear winner!" he cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good lord, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are - one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"

Harry slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into his inner pocket, feeling an odd combination of delight as he slipped the book inside his bag.

"How did you do that?" Ron whispered dumbfounded to Harry once they were securely ensconced at the Gryffindor table for dinner, however, he felt safe enough to tell them. Hermione's face became stonier with every word he uttered.

"I s'pose you think I cheated?" he finished, aggravated by her expression.

"Cheated on what?" asked Rabazthian, who had just joined in the conversation, sitting beside Harry, across from Hermione and Ron.

Harry quickly explained everything to him and when he finished, Rabazthian was staring at him, surprised and a little amused. "Really? You've got a sample of Felix Felicis in your possession?" Harry nodded. "That's just incredible, Harry. You were lucky enough to get that book in your hands, imagine how lucky you'll be with once you drink that potion. But, really, I don't think it means he was cheating-"

"Well, it wasn't exactly his own work, was it?" Hermione interjected stiffly.

"Come one, Hermione, he only followed different instructions to yours," said Rabazthian, looking at her with an amused smile.

"I suppose…" she mumbled.

"Yeah, could've been a catastrophe, couldn't it?" said Ron. "But he took a risk and it paid off." He heaved a sigh. "Slughorn could've handed me that book, but no, I get the one no one's ever written on. Puked on, by the look of page fifty-two." The other three laughed at Ron, and he just shrugged. "But, y'know, the best thing was watching Malfoy. It seemed he really wanted the Felix Felicis…" They all grinned by hearing this, and though Rabazthian seemed delighted too, there was something in his eyes that said otherwise, hide to everyone except for those who paid enough attention. "If only Harry had not fallowed that book's instructions, maybe-"

"Hang on," said a voice close by Harry's left ear and he caught a sudden waft of that flowery smell he had picked up in Slughorn's dungeon. He looked around and saw that Ginny had joined them. "Did I hear right? You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Harry?"

She looked alarmed and angry. Harry knew what was on her mind at once. "It's nothing," he said reassuringly, lowering his voice. "It's not like, you know, Riddle's diary. It's just an old textbook someone's scribbled on."

"But you're doing what it says?"

"I just tried a few of the tips written in the margins, honestly, Ginny, there's nothing funny-"

"Well, you have to admit that Ginny's got a point there," said Rabazthian. "We ought to check that there's nothing odd about it. I mean, all these funny instructions, who knows?"

"Hey!" said Harry indignantly, as Rabazthian pulled his copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and raised his long, black wand. "Specialis Revelio!" he said, rapping it smartly on the front cover. Nothing whatsoever happened. The book simply lay there, looking old and dirty and dog-eared.

"Finished?" said Harry irritably. "Or d'you want to wait and see if it does a few backflips?"

"It seems all right," said Rabazthian, chuckling at Harry's reaction.

"Good. Then I'll have it back," said Harry, snatching it off the table, but it slipped from his hand and landed open on the floor. Just Rabazthian was looking, and Harry noticed his strange look while he stared at it. Frowning, Harry bent low to retrieve the book, and as he did so, he saw something scribbled along the bottom of the back cover in the same small, cramped handwriting as the instructions that had won him his bottle of Felix Felicis, now safely hidden inside a pair of socks in his trunk upstairs.

_This book is the property of the Half Blood Prince._

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**_Please leave a review! Thank you for reading!_**


	5. Tryouts

**_I wasn't so sure about this chapter, I actually made so much changes in it and that's why it took me more time to upload it, so please tell me what you think about it!_**

_****__**I do not own Harry Potter or any of its character. They belong to the wonderful J.K Rowling!**_

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_Chapter 4. Tryouts_

As Hermione had warned, the sixth years' free periods were not the hours of enjoyable relaxation Ron had anticipated, but times in which to attempt to keep up with the vast amount of homework they were being set. Not only were they studying as though they had exams every day, but the lessons themselves had become more demanding than ever before. Harry barely understood half of what Professor McGonagall said to them these days; even Hermione had had to ask her to repeat instructions once or twice. Incredibly, Harry's best subject had suddenly become Potions, thanks to the Half-Blood Prince.

Nonverbal spells were now expected, not only in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but in Charms and Transfiguration too. Harry frequently looked over at his classmates in the common room or at mealtimes to see them purple in the face and straining as though they had overdosed on _U-No-Poo_; but he knew that they were really struggling to make spells work without saying incantations aloud. Lucky them, Rabazthian, in his free time, would gladly led them his helping hand as a seventh year with more experience and knowledge in the new and more difficult magic they were learning at the time.

However, even though Rabazthian was really helpful, the three of them, along with a few other members of the D.A, like Ginny and Neville, had already decided that secret organization's lessons were about to come back to the Room of Requirements. They had spread the word through the members of last year's meetings, who had agreed gladly to began with the D.A again. Perhaps this time, it was not meant to be just as secret and daily and tiring as before, but it was, at any rate, a way to practice and keep up with Snape's fast and complicated classes, and other subjects complicated work.

But for the time being, Harry, Ron and Hermione had to spend a great amount of time practicing by themselves, dropping hours of their free periods. One result of their enormous workload and the frantic hours of practicing nonverbal spells was that either of the three had so far been unable to find time to go and visit Hagrid. He had stopped coming to meals at the staff table, an ominous sign, and on the few occasions when they had passed him in the corridors or out in the grounds, he had mysteriously failed to notice them or hear their greetings.

"We've got to go and explain," said Hermione, looking up at Hagrid's huge empty chair at the staff table the following Saturday at breakfast.

"We've got Quidditch tryouts this morning!" said Ron. "And we're supposed to be practicing that Aguamenti Charm from Flitwick! Anyway, explain what exactly? How are we going to tell him we hated his stupid subject?"

"We didn't hate it!" retorted Hermione.

"Speak for yourself, I haven't forgotten the skrewts," said Ron darkly.

"I hate not talking to Hagrid," said Hermione, looking upset.

"We'll go down after Quidditch," Harry assured her. He too was missing Hagrid, although like Ron he thought that they were better off without the skrewts in their lives. "But trials might take all morning, the number of people who have applied is quite big." He felt slightly nervous at confronting the first hurdle of his Captaincy. "I dunno why the team's this popular all of a sudden."

"Oh, come on, Harry," said Hermione, suddenly impatient. "It's not Quidditch that's popular, it's you!"

"Shouldn't believe that story, Potter," said Rabazthian smirking and taking the seat beside him, the mockery visible in his voice. "You know she's lying. After all, the team's only popular because they know I'm trying out. And all those fan girls that will go to watch, well, let's just say I look good when I'm flying." Harry and Hermione laughed, while Ron snorted silently. "But, if magically this is about you... well, you've never been more interesting, and frankly, you've never been more fanciable." Rabazthian jokingly winked at him, and they erupted in laughter again.

"But seriously, Harry," Hermione said once she managed to stop laughing. "Everyone knows you've been telling the truth now, don't they? The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him twice in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they're calling you 'the Chosen One' — well, come on, can't you see why people are fascinated by you?"

Harry nodded, not really that interested now in why the Quidditch team was so popular.

"So," he said, looking at Rabazthian. "You're trying out right, Black? There's no backing out now, is there?"

"Of course not," Rabazthian said confidently. "I've got my broomstick right here with me, and I'll make it as one of the Chasers, you'll see."

Ron's eyes grew wide once Rabazthian showed them his broom; it was approximately forty inches, the handle crafted from a black and flexible wood and finished to a tail of grey and perfectly shaped twigs with metal pedals.

"You've got a _Shadow Chaser_!" exclaimed Ron, staring wide eyed at said item along with Harry. "It reaches 146 miles per hour within 5 seconds, and it's made of the finest ebony, to reduce the weight, and twigs of birch to make it even faster!" Rabazthian nodded, amazed at how much Ron knew about Quidditch. "Where did you get it? It was released last year!"

"It was a present," Rabazthian simply stated.

"From who?"

Harry looked over at Rabazthian and then the broom, realizing he already knew the answer. "Sirius gave it to you, didn't he?" he asked, smiling and looking at his own Firebolt, resting og the bench besides him.

Rabazthian nodded. "He gave it to me before I left, as a goodbye gift."

They both shared a look, their eyes lost in the memory of a Godfather and Uncle, a man who had been like a father to both, only to be interrupted by the post owls, swooping down through rain-flecked windows, scattering everyone with droplets of water.

Most people were receiving more post than usual; anxious parents were keen to hear from their children and to reassure them, in turn, that all was well at home. Harry had received no mail since the start of term; his only regular correspondent was now dead and although he had hoped that Lupin might write occasionally, he had so far been disappointed. He was very surprised, therefore, to see the snowy white Hedwig circling amongst all the brown and gray owls. She landed in front of him carrying a large, square package. A moment later, an identical package landed in front of Ron, crushing beneath it his minuscule and exhausted owl, Pigwidgeon.

"Ha!" said Harry, unwrapping the parcel to reveal a new copy of Advanced Potion-Making, fresh from Flourish and Blotts.

"Oh good," said Hermione, delighted. "Now you can give that awful copy back."

"Are you mad?" said Harry. "I'm keeping it! Look, I've thought it out —" He pulled the old copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and tapped the cover with his wand, muttering, "Diffindo!" The cover fell off. He did the same thing with the brand-new book (Hermione looked scandalized). He then swapped the covers, tapped each, and said, "Reparo!"

Rabazthian looked at Harry, amused. "You really thought about it, didn't you? It seems you're keeping it, then." Harry nodded, staring at the Prince's copy, disguised as a new book, and there sat the fresh copy from Flourish and Blotts, looking thoroughly secondhand.

"I'll give Slughorn back the new one, he can't complain, it cost nine Galleons."

Hermione pressed her lips together, looking annoyed and disapproving, but was distracted by a third owl landing in front of Rabazthian carrying in its leg a small envelope. Rabazthian frowned, taken aback by the arriving letter, as he was not expecting anything at all. And the same thing were thinking Harry, Ron and Hermione, the three of them wondering who would write to Rabazthian, seeing as he had no relatives left that could send him correspondence.

Rabazthian, however, opened the letter while he stroked the owl, black as coal with bright yellow eyes. Rabazthian smiled at the animal and said, "Thank you, Flavis." The dark owl hooted and left after drinking from the water Rabazthian gave him.

While Harry and Ron did not bother to find out what was in that letter, Hermione watched Rabazthian as he read it silently, and tried to hide the surprise. "What is it?" Hermione curiously asked him.

Rabazthian lifted his eyes off the parchment, and smiled at Hermione, all surprise gone from his features now, and shoved the letter inside his bag. "It's nothing, just Dumbledore- needs to see me again. By the way, Harry, what did he want to tell you last night?"

"How did you know Harry was meeting Dumbledore?" asked Hermione, frowning slightly, remembering Harry had told them about it when Rabazthian was not around.

"Dumbledore told me he was having private lessons with Harry," he explained. "So what did he say?"

Harry, once again, believed that Rabazthian was trust worthy, but what he had to say could not be told in the Great Hall, right where anyone could eavesdrop into their conversation. So he looked around before looking at him. "I'll tell you later."

Rabazthian understood the silent message and nodded.

When they left the Gryffindor table to head down to the Quidditch pitch, they passed Lavender Brown, the Patil twins and a few Ravenclaws, and Harry was unsurprised to see that they were all whispering together, surely gossiping around. What did surprise him was that when Rabazthian drew level with them, the four suddenly looked up and gave Rabazthian a wide smile, almost simultaneously, as if they had practiced so they could all smile at the seventh year exactly at the same time. Rabazthian smirked, then turned and gave them what girls thought to be a charming smile. Harry watched that while Rabazthian resisted the temptation to laugh, as he seemed to find the girl's reaction quite amusing, and so did Harry, Hermione, however, looked cold and distant all the way down to the stadium through the cool, misty drizzle, and departed to find a place in the stands without wishing them good luck.

As Harry had expected, the trials took most of the morning. Half of Gryffindor House seemed to have turned up, from first years who were nervously clutching a selection of the dreadful old school brooms, to seventh years who towered over the rest, looking coolly intimidating. The latter included Rabazthian, who was supporting his broomstick over his right shoulder, and a large, wiry-haired boy Harry recognized immediately from the Hogwarts Express.

"We met on the train, in old Sluggy's compartment," he said confidently, stepping out of the crowd to shake Harry's hand. "Cormac McLaggen, Keeper."

"Right," said Harry. "Well... if you wait over there..." He pointed over to the edge of the pitch, close to where Hermione was sitting. He thought he saw a flicker of annoyance pass over McLaggen's face and wondered whether McLaggen expected preferential treatment because they were both "old Sluggy's" favorites.

Harry decided to start with a basic test, asking all applicants for the team to divide into groups of ten and fly once around the pitch. This was a good decision: the first ten was made up of first years, and it could not have been plainer that they had hardly ever flown before. Only one boy managed to remain airborne for more than a few seconds, and he was so surprised he promptly crashed into one of the goal posts.

The second group was comprised of ten of the silliest girls Harry had ever encountered, who, when he blew his whistle, merely fell about giggling and clutching one another. Romilda Vane was amongst them. When he told them to leave the pitch, they did so quite cheerfully and went to sit in the stands to heckle everyone else.

After two hours, many complaints, and several tantrums, one involving a crashed Comet Two Sixty and several broken teeth, Harry had found himself two Beaters. Neither of his chosen Beaters, however, had the old brilliance of Fred and George, but he was still reasonably pleased with them: Jimmy Peakes, a short but broad-chested third-year boy who had managed to raise a lump the size of an egg on the back of Harry's head with a ferociously hit Bludger, and Ritchie Coote, who looked weedy but aimed well.

"Now for the chasers," Harry said, and watched Rabazthian coming closer, his broomstick over his shoulder, "first, you'll ride from this side of the pitch to the other straight to the posts and score, as faster as you can."

The five people who were trying out for Chaser, set over their broomsticks and flew towards the three posts to the right side of the pitch. Harry was indeed, very intrigued to see Rabazthian playing, and so far, Harry noticed he had a great ease, mobility and speed with his broom. They set off, first Ginny and then Katie, both doing a great example of how the exercise had to be done; then a girl named Demelza Robins fallowed by Dean; and finally Rabazthian, who waited patiently for Harry to blow the whistle with the Quaffle under his right arm.

When he did, Harry was impressed, like most of the audience. After the whistle's high pitched sound, Rabazthian speeded off right away, reaching a high velocity within seconds. His score was perfect; he rode straight to the posts, swung, and threw the Quaffle very strongly through the middle post. Harry made them repeat the exercise, and was again impressed when Rabazthian performed just like before, though this time the red ball entered through the highest post.

"Ok, now let's see how you do with some pressure," Harry said and indicated them to set once again over the right side of the pitch. He called over Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote to stay close to the posts and try to stop the chasers once they were close enough.

They set off, first Ginny with Katie; then Demelza with Dean; and lastly Rabazthian, who was paired up with Ginny, as there was not an even number. After the other did the exercise, Rabazthian and Ginny speeded off towards Jimmy and Ritchie, Rabazthian carrying with the Quaffle; he didn't let go of it until they were almost over the two Beaters, easily passing the red ball to Ginny, who catch it with a swift move, while he flew below Ritchie and then up quickly to catch Ginny's pass perfectly and score right away.

Harry, impressed by Rabazthian's skills once again, made them fly and score to finally see who could make more out of the five. Rabazthian outflown all the competition and scored nineteen goals to boot, followed closely behind by Ginny, who scored sixteen, and finally Katie with fourteen.

Rabazthian looked at Harry satisfied when he called his name, meaning he was a member of the team now, along with Ginny and Katie. "You're an amazing Quidditch player, Black," Harry congratulated him, patting him in the back. "It's good to have you on the team."

"Harry's right!" exclaimed Ginny, while she, Rabazthian and Katie walked toward the stand to join Jimmy and Ritchie. "You've got really outstanding moves, you're great!" Katie nodded vigorously while Ginny said this, clearly showing her agreement.

"Once Harry finds a Keeper, I think we've got really high chances to win the cup this year," she added. "And I'm sure you'll score a great number of goals!"

"Well, thank you," smiled Rabazthian. "You two are amazing players too. I believe we're an excellent trio."

Rabazthian looked up, and saw the silly girls who had showed up to tryout just to watch Harry closer, staring at him now. And he could not stop the thought that, as he had predicted to Harry at breakfast, he did look good while flying. He caught Hermione too, looking at him, and blushing slightly when he saw her staring. But Rabazthian didn't mind at all; he stood up and walked through the people in the stand towards her.

"You did great," Hermione said with a smile once he was close enough to hear. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks," said Rabazthian taking the seat beside her, his shoulder slightly touching hers. "Though, I believe I told you I would make it," he stated jokingly.

She chuckled. "Yeah, this time I can admit you were right."

"Then, I was right about looking good while flying, wasn't I?" he said, and smirked even wider when Hermione looked to the other side, trying to hide the little blush in her checks. "Oh, yeah, I was right about that too." He looked over at the pitch, where the Keepers were about to start. "So, have you got time to show me the Astronomy Tower? I can't wait any longer to see the view you've told me about."

Hermione rolled her eyes playfully, "You know you can go by yourself, don't you? I mean, the Tower is not that hard to find."

"Yeah," Rabazthian agreed, "but I rather go well accompanied than all by myself."

Hermione laughed. "Do you often flirt with your new female friends?"

"Maybe," Rabazthian smirked teasingly, "but more frequently with the beautiful ones."

"Well, you don't look so bad yourself."

They laughed at the ridiculousness' of the situation, both playing around, though Hermione saw Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, and more of the gossip girls staring at both of them, whispering among themselves.

She didn't pay any of her attention to them, and turned to the pitch, while each Keeper flew up to the goal hoops and the crowd roared and jeered in equal measure. Hermione glanced over at Ron, who had always had a problem with nerves: he was a delicate shade of green. She knew Harry had deliberately left the trial of the Keepers until last, hoping for an emptier stadium and less pressure on all concerned. Unfortunately, however, all the rejected players and a number of people who had come down to watch after a lengthy breakfast had joined the crowd by now, so that it was larger than ever.

"Are you worried about Ron?" asked Rabazthian, feeling her body moving uncomfortably.

"Yeah," said Hermione. "If he doesn't make it, he'll feel really bad, I'm sure of it. You know, he really loves Quidditch."

"Don't worry," Rabazthian assured her. "He'll make it great."

"Yeah, but- anyways. Honestly, I hope McLaggen doesn't make it; you should have heard the way he was talking about Ron and Ginny!"

None of the first five applicants saved more than two goals apiece. To Hermione's great disappointment, Cormac McLaggen saved four penalties out of five.

Though, when Ginny was about to throw him the last one, however, Rabazthian nudged at Hermione's side and said with a slight grin, "Look at this". He took his long black wand out of his pocket and vaguely leaned over Hermione's side to cover it from sight. Her eyes grew wide once she realized what he was about to do, but before she could say something against it, she watched McLaggen shooting off in completely the wrong direction; the crowd laughed and booed and McLaggen returned to the ground grinding his teeth.

"Rabazthian!" Hermione reproached while he hide his wand inside his pocket again, though deep down she was glad that he had done it. "That's cheating! If someone found out they could make you out of the team, not to mention that it's just plain wrong to do something like-"

"You're welcome," he interjected, smiling.

She looked at him, stunned at how easily he could see trough her ranting and sermon.

"Thank you," Hermione finally said, returning the small smile. "But what did you do?"

"A nonverbal Confundus Charm," he explained, while Hermione stared at him, lost in thought.

As Rabazthian had assured her, she need not have worried: Ron saved one, two, three, four, five penalties in a row. Delighted, she and Rabazthian joined in the cheers of the crowd, while they watched Harry turning to McLaggen to tell him that, most unfortunately, Ron had beaten him, only to find McLaggen's red face inches from his own. He stepped back hastily.

"His sister didn't really try," said McLaggen menacingly. There was a vein pulsing in his temple like the one Harry had often ad-mired in Uncle Vernon's. "She gave him an easy save."

"Rubbish," said Harry coldly. "That was the one he nearly missed."

McLaggen took a step nearer Harry, who stood his ground this time.

"Give me another go."

"No," said Harry. "You've had your go. You saved four. Ron saved five. Ron's Keeper, he won it fair and square. Get out of my way."

He thought for a moment that McLaggen might punch him, but Rabazthian was holding him from his elbow before he could say anything else. Rabazthian stood the same height as Cormac, though his face was calm, and there was a smirk threatening to show up. "Easy, tiger," warned Rabazthian, almost mockingly. "You've heard Potter, Weasley won fair and square, and so he is the Keeper. Now get lost."

McLaggen contented himself with an ugly grimace and stormed away, growling what sounded like threats to thin air, as Rabazthian chuckled under his breath, finding the situation quite amusing. Hermione, however, thought it sounded hypocritical coming from his mouth, since McLaggen had not make it because of him; she was not about to say anything though, she was glad Rabazthian had made Cormac lose.

"You did brilliantly, Ron," Rabazthian congratulated him, patting him on the back. Ron looked extremely pleased with himself and even taller than usual as he grinned at the team and at Hermione.

After fixing the time of their first full practice for the following Thursday, Harry, Ron, and Hermione bade good-bye to the rest of the team and headed off toward Hagrid's, taking Rabazthian with them as they had promised him they would introduced him to the half giant. A watery sun was trying to break through the clouds now and it had stopped drizzling at last. Rabazthian felt extremely hungry; he hoped there would be something to eat at Hagrid's.

"I thought I was going to miss that fourth penalty," Ron was saying happily. "Tricky shot from Ginny, did you see, had a bit of spin on it —"

"Yes, yes, you were magnificent," said Hermione, looking amused.

"I was better than that McLaggen anyway," said Ron in a highly satisfied voice. "Did you see him lumbering off in the wrong direction on his fifth? Looked like he'd been Confunded..."

To Harry's surprise, Rabazthian looked at Hermione with a confidential smile at these words. Ron noticed nothing; he was too busy describing each of his other penalties in loving detail.

The great gray hippogriff, Buckbeak, was tethered in front of Hagrid's cabin. He clicked his razor-sharp beak at their approach and turned his huge head toward them.

"Buckbeak!"exclaimed Rabazthian happily, reaching to rub behind the hippogriff's ears. "How've you been, buddy?" he asked him in a low voice, moving forward to stroke the feathery head. "Missing him? But you're okay here with Hagrid, aren't you?"

Harry watched surprised as Rabazthian had physical contact with the animal, that would have bitten anyone who he did not know. But now that he came to think about it, Rabazthian was not a stranger to Buckbeak, as he had lived with him and Sirius time enough to bond with the animal.

"Oi!" said a loud voice. Hagrid had come striding around the corner of his cabin wearing a large flowery apron and carrying a sack of potatoes. His enormous boarhound, Fang, was at his heels; Fang gave a booming bark and bounded forward. "Git away from him! He'll have yer fingers — oh. It's yeh lot."

Fang was jumping up at Hermione and Ron, attempting to lick their ears. Hagrid stood and looked at them all for a split second, then turned and strode into his cabin, slamming the door behind him.

"Oh dear!" said Hermione, looking stricken.

"Don't worry about it," said Harry grimly. He walked over to the door and knocked loudly. "Hagrid! Open up, we want to talk to you!"

There was no sound from within.

"If you don't open the door, we'll blast it open!" Harry said, pulling out his wand.

"Harry!" said Hermione, sounding shocked. "You can't possibly —"

"Yeah, I can!" said Harry. "Stand back —"

But before he could say anything else, the door flew open again as Harry had known it would, and there stood Hagrid, glowering down at him and looking, despite the flowery apron, positively alarming. "I'm a teacher!" he roared at Harry. "A teacher, Potter! How dare yeh threaten ter break down my door!"

Rabazthian was slightly impressed by this display, as the trio had told him that Hagrid was nice and one of their dearest friends.

"I'm sorry, sir," said Harry, emphasizing the last word as he stowed his wand inside his robes.

Hagrid looked stunned. "Since when have yeh called me 'sir'?"

"Since when have you called me 'Potter'?"

Rabazthian was looking in between both, like a tennis match.

"Oh, very clever," growled Hagrid. "Very amusin'. That's me outsmarted, innit? All righ', come in then, yeh ungrateful little..." Mumbling darkly, he stood back to let them pass. Hermione scurried in after Rabazthian, looking rather frightened. "Well?" said Hagrid grumpily, the four sat down around his enormous wooden table, Fang laying his head immediately upon Harry's knee and drooling all over his robes. "What's this? Feelin' sorry for me? Reckon I'm lonely or summat?"

"No," said Harry at once. "We wanted to see you."

"We've missed you!" said Hermione tremulously.

"Missed me, have yeh?" snorted Hagrid. "Yeah. Righ'." He stomped around, brewing up tea in his enormous copper kettle, muttering all the while. Finally he slammed down just three bucket-sized mugs of mahogany-brown tea in front of them and a plate of his rock cakes, as in outburst of anger he had not noticed Rabazthian yet.

"Hagrid," said Hermione timidly, when he joined them at the table and started peeling his potatoes with a brutality that suggested that each tuber had done him a great personal wrong, "we really wanted to carry on with Care of Magical Creatures, you know." Hagrid gave another great snort. Harry rather thought some bo-geys landed on the potatoes, and was inwardly thankful that they were not staying for dinner. "But that is not the main reason we came here. We wanted to introduce you to someone."

"To who?" asked Hagrid, now looking up. He looked at the three, and finally noticed Rabazthian sitting by Hermione's side, rather amused. Hagrid frowned, "And who are yeh?"

"Um..." Rabazthian became serious all of a sudden, not really sure how to introduce himself. He looked at Hermione, who nodded at him, encouraging him to do it. He extended his hand, "I'm Rabazthian, Rabazthian Black."

* * *

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**_Thank you for reading!_**

**_-J_**


	6. The Astronomy Tower

**_Sorry it took me so long to update! But you know, I pretty much like this chapter so hope you like it too!_**

**_Thank you for the reviews guys! ___****Please, if you liked it R&R**

**_Like always,_** _****__**I do not own Harry Potter or any of its character. They belong to the wonderful J.K Rowling!**_

* * *

_Chapter 5. The Astronomy Tower_

The four Gryffindors spent all afternoon at Hagrid's hut; Rabazthian confessed who he was, leaving a perplexed and not entirely convinced Hagrid after the last Black introduced himself. Hagrid yet burst into tears once Harry assured him that Rabazthian was Sirius' nephew, while the half giant attempted to stem his weeping, promising that they were just happy tears. Rabazthian quickly leaped up, and walked around the table the long way to avoid the barrel of maggots, and patted Hagrid's shaking shoulders, trying to soothe his new friend. Hagrid, however, felt more than comfortable to shove his big arms around Rabazthian's tall figure, giving him his first crashing bone hug, while Harry, Ron and Hermione laughed at Rabazthian's red face as he struggled to catch his breath again.

After that, the atmosphere lightened considerably, and the four Gryffindors catch up with Hagrid, mostly Rabazthian, who spent more of the time answering his many questions and telling him everything he wanted to know. Later, Harry, Ron and Hermione explained to Hagrid (and Rabazthian could tell it was half lie) why they hadn't carried on Care of Magical Creatures, reassuring him that the reason was because none of them could fit his subject into their schedules.

After a long talk inside the hut, where Hagrid forgave them easily, the four teenagers avoiding the mahogany-brown tea and the rock cakes, said their goodbyes while Hagrid waved them off at dusk, looking quite cheerful, and went to the castle for a good and earned meal.

"Hagrid is rather… unusual," Rabazthian said chuckling along with the trio, and inwardly smiling happily at the thought of his new and charming friend, someone else who had been related to Sirius and shared the same memories of him. "I like him, though I'm starving now," he said, once the door had closed behind them and they were hurrying through the dark and deserted grounds; he had abandoned the rock cake after an ominous cracking noise from one of his back teeth.

Harry laughed. "Yeah, me too, and I've got detention with Snape tonight, I haven't got much time for dinner."

As they came into the castle they spotted Cormac McLaggen entering the Great Hall. It took him two attempts to get through the doors; he ricocheted off the frame on the first attempt. Ron merely guffawed gloatingly and strode off into the Hall after him with Harry by his side, but Rabazthian caught Hermione's arm and held her back.

"Something's wrong?" asked Hermione frowning at the sight of Rabazthian troubled face.

"Don't you think we should tell Harry?" asked Rabazthian, scratching the back of his neck. "About what we did today at the field. It doesn't feel so good to hide it from him now that I'm on the team and, you know, he's the captain."

"What?" hushed Hermione defensively. "We? If I remember well, you were the one who confused Cormac, Black, not me."

Rabazthian chuckled sarcastically. "Excuse me? I did it for you, Granger, you _thanked_ me, remember that?" he hushed back. "So you, I'm afraid, are my partner in crime."

"Oh, all right," she whispered. "You can say I'm related to this crime, as you put it, but I'm not telling him."

"Deal," he claimed quickly, a winning smile over his lips and a mischievous twinkle in his icy-blue eyes. "You just got to be there with me. Though, if you ask me, I believe Harry already suspects something."

"Really? What makes you believe that?"

"I don't know, guess is just… intuition." Hermione perfectly saw the teasing grin that crossed his lips. "But seriously, he looked rather confused when Cormac flew right to the other side of the post he was guarding, and later when Ron motioned it too."

"Guess so…" Hermione looked down and blushed, realizing that Rabazthian's hand was still around her forearm holding her tightly.

"Well, look at this," teased Rabazthian, smirking playfully. "You're blushing."

"Oh, be quiet," she snapped, as he smirked wider and extended his other hand to squeeze her slightly red cheek.

"What are you two doing?" demanded Ron, reappearing in the doorway to the Great Hall and looking suspicious.

"Nothing," said Rabazthian and Hermione together, as she backed away from the calm and smirking seventeen year old. Ron frowned before they hurried inside the Great Hall and to the Gryffindor table. The smell of roast beef made Rabazthian's stomach ache with hunger, but they had barely taken their seats in the table besides Harry when Professor Slughorn appeared in front of them, ruining Rabazthian's intention to eat.

"Harry, Harry, just the man I was hoping to see!" he boomed genially, twiddling the ends of his walrus mustache and puffing out his enormous belly, "I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? We're having a little party, just a few rising stars, I've got McLaggen coming and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin — I don't know whether you know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries — and, of course, I hope very much that Miss Granger and Mister Black will favor me by coming too."

Slughorn made Rabazthian and Hermione a little bow as he finished speaking. It was as though Ron was not present; Slughorn did not so much as look at him.

"I can't come, Professor," said Harry at once. "I've got a detention with Professor Snape."

"Oh dear!" said Slughorn, his face falling comically. "Dear, dear, I was counting on you, Harry! Well, now, I'll just have to have a word with Severus and explain the situation. I'm sure I'll be able to persuade him to postpone your detention. Yes, I'll see you three later!" He bustled away out of the Hall.

"He's got no chance of persuading Snape," said Harry, the moment Slughorn was out of earshot. "This detention's already been postponed once; Snape did it for Dumbledore, but he won't do it for anyone else."

"Oh, at least you can go, I wouldn't have wanted to go on my own!" said a relieved Hermione to Rabazthian; he knew that she was thinking about McLaggen. He returned the smile.

"I doubt you'd have been alone, Ginny'll probably be invited," snapped Ron, who did not seem to have taken kindly to being ignored by Slughorn.

Rabazthian intently stared at Ron while he eat, who was still in this bad mood that had taken over him since Slughorn had came across their table, or even before, since Ron had interrupted his and Hermione's talk at the Great Hall doors. If Rabazthian didn't know better, he would say that Ron was acting quite… jealous. Ha! Did it mean that he had a thing for Hermione, fancied her even? The thought of Hermione with Ron made a strange and unknown feeling, a nuisance, appear in Rabazthian's stomach. But he covered it by eating a few roasted potatoes.

"Thought you were going to Old Sluggy's dinner with me?" asked Hermione, who was just drinking pumpkin juice when she saw him eating.

"Yeah," said Rabazthian, "but we might get to the dessert, because I'm really hungry right now. Couldn't get myself to eat Hagrid's rock cake."

Hermione snorted. "He's not the best of cooks, is he?"

"Not at all." They both chuckled, while Harry and Ron were talking by themselves, though Rabazthian could have sworn he heard his name coming out from Ron's mouth in a hiss. "So tonight we've got enough time for you to show me the Astronomy Tower, don't you think?"

"I'm a prefect, Black. I'm not suppose to let you go around the corridors at night," said Hermione in a hesitant whisper, afraid that someone else would hear their conversation.

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Rabazthian whispered back, with a exaggerated pout. "You've been telling me you'll show me the Tower since day one. Please, we'll go before Slughorn's' little… get-together. Or are you just afraid to break a few rules for me?"

"Oh, alright," hushed Hermione, giving in after a few seconds. "But shut it! If McGonagall finds out…" She trailed off, surely picturing how the Head of House would punish her for breaking the rules while being a prefect.

"Don't worry, we won't stay long, I promise."

After dinner they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. The common room was very crowded, as most people had finished dinner by now, but they managed to find a free table and sat down; Ron, who had been in a bad mood ever since the encounter with Slughorn, folded his arms and frowned at the ceiling. Hermione reached out for a copy of the Evening Prophet, which somebody had left abandoned on a chair.

"Anything new?" said Harry.

"Not really…" Hermione had opened the newspaper and was scanning the inside pages. "Oh, look, your dad's in here, Ron — he's all right!" she added quickly, for Ron had looked around in alarm. "It just says he's been to visit the Malfoys' house. 'This second search of the Death Eaters residence does not seem to have yielded any results. Arthur Weasley of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects said that his team had been acting upon a confidential tipoff.'"

"Yeah, mine!" said Harry. "I told him at Kings Cross about Malfoy and that thing he was trying to get Borgin to fix! Well, if it's not at their house, he must have brought whatever it is to Hogwarts with him —"

"But how can he have done, Harry?" questioned Rabazthian, looking rather alerted. "You were all searched when you arrived, weren't you?"

"Were you?" said Harry looking at Hermione and Ron, taken aback. "I wasn't!"

"Oh no, you weren't, you were late," remembered Hermione. "Well, Filch ran over all of us with Secrecy Sensors when we got into the entrance hall. Any Dark object would have been found, I know for a fact Crabbe had a shrunken head confiscated. So you see, Malfoy can't have brought in anything dangerous!"

Momentarily stymied, Harry watched Ginny playing with Arnold the Pygmy Puff for a while before seeing a way around this objection.

"Someone's sent it to him by owl, then," he said. "His mother or someone."

"All the owls are being checked too," said Rabazthian. "Dumbledore's told me a few times already; he's quite repetitive."

Really stumped this time, Harry found nothing else to say. There did not seem to be any way Malfoy could have brought a dangerous or Dark object into the school. While Hermione watched a thoughtful Rabazthian with her narrowed eyes and the same features that Harry had seen whenever she was thinking hard, he looked hopefully at Ron, who was sitting with his arms folded, staring over at Lavender Brown.

"Can you think of any way Malfoy — ?"

"Oh, drop it, Harry," said Ron.

"Listen, it's not my fault Slughorn invited Rab, Hermione and me to his stupid party, neither of us wanted to go, you know!" exclaimed Harry, firing up.

"Well, as I'm not invited to any parties," retorted Ron, getting to his feet again, "I think I'll go to bed."

He stomped off toward the door to the boys' dormitories, leaving his three friends staring after him. Rabazthian was about to say something when someone interrupted him.

"Harry?" said one of the girls that had tried for Chaser, Demelza Robins, appearing suddenly at his shoulder. "I've got a message for you."

"From Professor Slughorn?" asked Harry, sitting up hopefully.

"No... from Professor Snape," said Demelza. Harry's heart sank. "He says you're to come to his office at half past eight tonight to do your detention — er — no matter how many party invitations you've received. And he wanted you to know you'll be sorting out rotten flobberworms from good ones, to use in Potions and — and he says there's no need to bring protective gloves."

"Right," said Harry grimly. "Thanks a lot, Demelza."

She left after that, approaching a few of her friends, while Rabazthian and Hermione stood up, rather bored.

"We've got to go if we want to get to Old Sluggy's little party," said Rabazthian. "Good luck with Snape, Harry!"

"Night," smiled Hermione while she and Rabazthian headed for the portrait.

Once outside the Common Room, Rabazthian sighed dramatically. "Oh, I realize now that I'm not in the best mood to go to this… gathering or whatever. Guess I'm just going there for the dessert."

Hermione rolled her eyes playfully. "Don't tell me you have an appetite like Ron's!"

"Not quite," laughed the blue-eyed. "But I just cannot simply reject desserts. I'm a fan of the sweet food, you know," he lowered his voice at the end, as if remembering a really old and fond memory, while shoving his hands inside his pants pockets, smiling though Hermione noticed it did not reach his eyes.

"So, how come you're invited to Sluggy's special meals for _rising stars_?" she asked, quickly changing the topic.

They turned the corner of the dark corridor and climbed the few stairs they faced ahead.

"Well, it's all about my last name, of course. Slughorn was a teacher of most part of my family; my uncles and even my father were his students. He always mentions he would have loved to have the three Black brothers as their Head of House, however, Sirius got the chance to _not_ be a Slytherin."

"So your father was a Slytherin too," said a not so surprised Hermione.

"Yeah," mumbled Rabazthian, "though is not strange. I mean, the entire Black family was sorted into Slytherin, except for two people: Sirius and I."

There was a short but comfortable silence, both still walking through dark hallways while Rabazthian tried to memorize his way to the highest Tower.

"And how come you're invited to Sluggy's special meals for _rising stars_?" he asked using her own words.

"Well, he says I'm the best in class —"

"Of course you are," said Rabazthian as if it were a knowing fact. Hermione frowned at him. "Oh come on, don't play modest with me. You _are_ the brightest witch of your age, I think everyone knows that already."

Hermione snorted. "I'm just good at the library."

"And clever and really brave for what I've heard," claimed the seventeen year old.

Hermione didn't say anything back, pleased to hear Rabazthian complimenting her.

They finally reached the Astronomy Tower after a long walk and silently breaking through a small door, and for the first time since his arrival, Rabazthian had no smart or funny comment to say. The view was everything Hermione had claimed it was, beautiful and breathtaking: he could see the lake and the extensive Forbidden Forest, and a few of the other towers of Hogwarts, while the moonlight covered almost every spot of the castle's gardens, its reflection perfectly lucid over the clear water.

Hypnotized by the view, Rabazthian leaned over the metal railing that prevent anyone from falling, supporting his weight with his elbows.

"You like it then?" asked Hermione quietly, standing close beside him. He looked at her, astonished and still speechless. "I take it as a yes. And if you like it now, you should come at dusk."

"You know what this view provokes me to do?" he asked, smiling and making a mental note to come when the sun was setting as Hermione had advised. "To take Buckbeak and fly all around Hogwarts' grounds."

"Oh dear," said Hermione nervously. "Buckbeak's still a bit scary, isn't he?"

"Come off it, you've ridden him, haven't you?" Rabazthian chuckled amused, but before Hermione could make a smart come back, he spoke again, "I know is not Buckbeak that you're afraid of, Granger, you just don't like flying," Rabazthian said, and Hermione gave in, nodding. "And you're very fond of Quidditch, that's odd."

"I never said I liked Quidditch!" she exclaimed annoyed. "I've gone to every Gryffindor match because of Harry, and now you and Ron are another reason to go. It doesn't really bothers me to go and watch friends playing, I kind of like it actually, but flying is…"

"…Terrifying?" Rabazthian guessed, raising an eyebrow questionably. "If you don't think about it, if you just let the worries out of your mind, it's an incredible sensation, Hermione. I'm sure you would really enjoy it."

"Is just… Flying is not exactly what frightens me," he confessed. "But crashing…"

"Well, nothing can happen if you go with someone, don't you think?" he smiled sympathetically. "I know you've flown with Harry before, but the situation was of life or death. So I believe that if you put your sight in just enjoy the ride, you will." Hermione nodded, hesitant. "I can take you myself, if you want to. And Buckbeak already likes you, so I'm not giving you choice but to say yes."

Hermione made a grimace, but finally accepted. "Okay," she mumbled reluctantly, and Rabazthian smirked.

He looked over at the view again, and his features softened. He sighed, then, "You know, Hogwarts is everything Sirius said it would be. Just… the most magical place in the whole world, and I'm glad I got the chance to be here, even under this certain circumstances we're living in."

"I believe everyone has the same first impression of Hogwarts," Hermione mumbled.

"You too?"

"Yeah," she said looking down at him, "Even though I had previously read about it in my excitement."

"_Hogwarts: A History_?" he guessed turning at her with a grin.

"How did you know?" she said smiling back.

"Intuition," he smirked, then turned to the view and his face softened once again. "I know because I've wanted to read that book since I first heard about Hogwarts. Guess that in the library must be a few copies, I'd like to have one for a few weeks."

"You don't need to go to the library," Hermione said almost hesitant, almost. "I can always lend you mine."

He smiled at her.

"Thank you, Hermione."

There was again a comfortable silence, in which both were wordlessly grateful for the other's company. Rabazthian was lost in thought, admiring the beauty surrounding him, and knew for sure that the Astronomy Tower was his new favorite place in the whole world. But something still bothered him about that place, something dark and even painful, as he deep down _knew_ he could feel the air filled with the smell of tragedy, of imminent death.

"I don't want to either, but we should get going," Hermione said, noticing the clearly evident change in his features, his lips turning into a tiny line and his icy-blue eyes becoming darker all of a sudden. "If we don't hurry, you won't have a chance to get some dessert."

Rabazthian finally turned to her, standing straight once again. "You're right, I don't want to miss it."

"Right," she said blushing slightly under his intense gaze.

If he noticed her pink cheeks he didn't say, just whispered, "Thank you for showing me this, 'Mione."

And he found himself smiling at her for the hundredth time that night.

* * *

Rabazthian touched his covered left arm, trying to overcome the pain.

That night, after Slughorn's party, Snape had made his and Dumbledore's job to treat his arm, as Dumbledore was not in the castle at the moment; he was attending one of his searches. Rabazthian now would caught sight of the headmaster only twice over the next few weeks, and he knew the reason was imperative. He rarely appeared at meals anymore, and would come into sight at Hogwarts just to attend his meeting with Rabazthian and Snape, and the seventeen year old felt slightly abandoned at the old headmaster's absence.

Now, at half past midnight, Rabazthian was walking down the hallways and climbing stairs, intending to get to the Astronomy Tower as fast as possible. He was glad that Hermione had showed him the way there, though he had never believed he would have the need to go back so quickly and so desperately. It was just something up there that dragged him back, perhaps the cold and fresh air, or the incredibly beautiful view of Hogwarts' grounds.

Maybe it was calling him because it was calm and he could think clearly, _remember_ clearly.

Or perhaps it was the fact that soon the tower would turn out to be one of the more detestable places in Hogwarts, and the thought made him want to be there until such a thing happened.

Throughout dinner at Sluggy's rooms, Rabazthian had thought about it all, and no matter the reason, now he had set his sight in the Tower, thought it to be his place to ponder his deepest thoughts and feelings. As dinner had been nothing but interesting, he had got enough time to think and plan what moment of the night would be ideal to walk up there and how he would evade the prefects who patrolled the halls before bedtime. He was glad that he and Hermione had gone to the meal together and had sat beside each other while they ate ice cream of all flavors, as he had been able to have a good time even whispering and having fun with her while the others kept track to whatever Slughorn was relating, a few of his many adventures, as he put it, just to try to impress them all.

It was odd how he felt so careless around this girl, this unusual but kind, gentle and brave girl, as he had told her before. He had come to take her as a really good friend.

But that was no good thing.

The sound of footsteps behind him made him lose his train of thoughts. Alerted, he looked around and was ready to jump into the shadows if the walking figure passing through the opposite corridor was one of a prefects. But when the light illuminated his pale face and perfectly combed, blond hair, Rabazthian stared over at him. When he realized that Rabazthian's eyes were locked in his tall and slender figure, he stopped dead in his tracks and looked back.

Draco Malfoy's grey eyes mate his icy-blue ones.

Neither of them did nothing. It didn't matter if certain raven-haired boy with a lightening shaped scar came to both their heads, they stared at each other for a few minutes, blank expressions over both faces.

Until Draco shortly nodded his head towards him, and Rabazthian nodded back.

Then they both turned and kept walking their own paths.

* * *

**_Please, leave a review!_**

**_Thank you for reading!_**

**_-J_**


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